


Don't Blink

by Maunakea



Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Generation One
Genre: Death of Major Charactors, M/M, Psychological Horror, Starscream being Starscream, Timey-Wimey, Weeping Angels - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-23
Updated: 2020-10-01
Packaged: 2021-03-06 20:13:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 12
Words: 40,800
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26054746
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Maunakea/pseuds/Maunakea
Summary: Starscream, Cybertron's deadliest seeker, encounters one of the universe's "kindest" murderous psychopaths... and yet another plot to overthrow Megatron goes disastrously wrong.
Relationships: Megatron & Starscream, Megatron/Starscream (Transformers)
Comments: 98
Kudos: 98





	1. Change in Plans

**Somewhere in deep space...**

"Retrieve that weapon for me — now!"

Starscream stared as the vid-screen went blank. His helm tilted as Megatron's harsh continence vanished almost as quickly as he'd appeared.

Starscream leaned back in his command chair to ponder his new orders. Around him, the various tactical screens of the _Deft Blade,_ his small Interceptor-class starship, glowed ominously. The current display was tracking an Autobot shuttle ferrying a diplomat he was already tasked to assassinate; cutting short a critical effort by the Autobots to secure a new source of energon. The current mission was so important that Starscream himself had been sent to complete it, but now it seemed he and his small contingent of seekers were to be reassigned.

_Curious._

Starscream tapped at the info-pack Megatron had grudgingly sent him, opening the files one by one. _So unlike Megatron to interrupt me mid-mission like this, unless things were truly dire._ The mission detail seemed a standard smash and grab, but the interesting wrinkle was that the ship he was to infiltrate was one of their own.

According to the files, the Terrorcons had been sent to retrieve some sort of time weapon, the latest toy that Megatron was currently obsessing over. Their ship — the _Relentless Pursuit_ — had overtaken the target vessel with extreme prejudice. The Terrorcons had initially reported success, but then all communications with them had abruptly ceased.

Apparently something had gone wrong.

 _Perhaps Hun-Gurr thought to claim it for himself_ , Starscream mused, a small smirk tugging at his lip. It was an easy conclusion and so very Decepticon of them. After all, anything that gave Megatron pause was worth pursuing… except for them going entirely missing. That was un-Decepticon of them and most inconvenient for High Command.

 _The Terrorcons are simpletons… likely they shot themselves while pawing at it, animals that they are..._ but that led to another fascinating possibility. _If the weapon can distort time, what if those idiots were sent either forward or backward in time?_ There was no way to confirm the future, but what about the past?

Intrigued, Starscream ran a few searches on several older historical databases, but found nothing suggesting the Terrorcons had left any sort of messages or warnings from the past.

 _Alright then_ , Starscream thought, his deft fingers abandoning the keypad as he cast that possibility aside. _So how best to use such a weapon against Megatron?_ Perhaps the weapon merely distorted local time, leaving no lasting changes to the time stream, but harmed its victims in some other manner.

 _What if I could freeze Megatron in time, conscious of everything but utterly helpless? Oh, what I could do with him then..._ and Starscream settled deeper into his command chair — a poor substitute for Megatron’s far grander one — and grinned as he imagined propping Mighty Megatron up against his throne as a supplicant, or even better, a beverage table for his adoring fans… of which there would be countless multitudes. It would be his time to shine, just as soon as Megatron was swept away and put in his rightful place. _And at night he'd make a good berth warmer and personal pillow._

_Among other things._

The ribald possibilities warmed Starscream's plating and made his wings shiver, but at the back of his mind doubts gathered. _Megatron is no fool when it comes to obtaining new toys._ _Why would he send me after it? Why not send someone more loyal? He has to know that if it is as powerful as it appears, I will claim it for myself and use it against him._

How many times had Starscream come across and taken advantage of just this sort of opportunity? How many times had Megatron wrested those prizes away from him, turned his scheming against him, or manipulated him into doing his bidding without even realizing it — simply for not recognizing the bigger picture in time? It was these sort of worries that kept him up at night.

There was something else.

Something Megatron had hinted at, a seemingly careless phrase here and there, as if he was testing the waters when he spoke of the future. It had happened again a few vorns ago, when they had spoken candidly of the end of the war and the necessary steps that needed to be taken to rebuild a true Cybertronian empire. "We will all have to make sacrifices, some more _personal_ than others" Megatron had said, but it was the way he said it; the way his optics had lingered over Starscream's wings and frame. It had felt different then the hate-fragging they infrequently indulged in when slag was bad for them both.

Even now that conversation made him nervous.

Starscream glanced over his shoulder, considering bringing his seekers — Thundercracker, Skywarp, Dirge, and Thrust — out of stasis lock to brief them on their new mission, but then opted against. _Best to conserve our energon_ , and of course there was the small matter that they were more loyal to Megatron then their own Air Commander.

Dirge and Thrust, well he'd been their direct commander for eons, so he was reasonably sure he could intimidate them into, if not directly supporting him, at least standing aside and not interfering. Thrust was ambitious enough that if properly bribed with a serious promotion he might stand aside, but that wasn't always certain. Dirge was the more cautious of the two, and though he might seem loyal, as soon as slag appeared to even _think_ about approaching the fan he could be counted on to switch sides. The danger was either of them might choose to sneak a warning out as a way to hedge their bets, which would of course ruin everything.

Thundercracker was too concerned for Starscream's well-being and would try, perhaps successfully, to talk him out of his plans. Being all reasonable and sensible was classic Thundercracker, and this was a surprisingly common way his plots ended up failing before they even began.

Skywarp was straight out. He was Megatron's biggest fan and the very few times he'd backed Starscream had seen him languishing under Megatron's cold shoulder, desperate to regain favour from his idol. Even worse, he could be counted on to actively thwart plans that seemed likely to end in Megatron's horrible death, which, Starscream had repeatedly pointed out, was sort of the point and entirely expected of Decepticons seeking promotions into the highest stations of command. That conversation generally ended with Skywarp throwing a tantrum, and later, suspicious acts of prankage against Starscream's august person...

...so clearly it was best to let them all sleep.

Starscream scowled as he turned back to the vid-screen on his command chair. He tapped at the files, searching for a description of the weapon. He expected some sort of gun, but was surprised to find a complete lack of description or imagery of any kind. The aliens the Terrorcons had stolen the weapon from — the Bra’xis — had gone to great lengths to attain it, but hadn’t detailed anything beyond its capacities for time manipulation, other than their plans to unleash it upon their enemies.

Not even a single picture.

 _The weapon could look like anything,_ and with a disappointed grunt, Starscream shut off the screen. _No matter. I will succeed where these fools have failed._


	2. Ghost Ship

The _Relentless Pursuit_ was floating dead ahead, listing in slow circles.

Starscream stood beside his command chair, peering at the central vid-screen. He drummed his knuckles against the polished metal as he looked over his ship’s sensor scans.

The results were every bit as extensive as they were unhelpful. The _Relentless Pursuit_ was powerless and yet there was no sign of damage. No blaster burns on the hull, no wreckage, no signs of forced entry of any kind. All of the escape pods were present and accounted for. And yet, according to his scans not only were there no life signs, there were no bodies of any kind.

The _Relentless Pursuit_ was a ghost ship; an eerie empty mass against the backdrop of deep space.

 _Whatever happened here was bloodless,_ Starscream thought as he sat back down in his command chair. He tapped at his chair console and activated a low-level energy burst, designed to transfer a minimal amount of energy from the _Deft Blade_ to the dead ship.

Starscream watched as the ship’s systems responded, lights winking on inside the ship. With the lights on, the _Relentless Pursuit_ seemed more herself, but the transfer didn't last. Within moments the lights began to dim and flicker, as if being smothered. Then the ghost ship went dark again.

 _Something is draining the ship’s power_ , Starscream thought, but the second sensor sweep he ran was still inconclusive. He was unable to trace the energy loss to its source. Perplexed, he sent another energy burst. That too was consumed in a matter of moments, but only to a point. This time the lights remained on enough to flicker, and after a few torturous attempts, the ship’s computer systems finally came back online.

_Success!_

Starscream triumphantly opened a backline to the _Relentless Pursuit’s_ main computer. He only intended to download the contents of the ship’s digital black box, but was surprised to find more data available than the minimum expected of such a compromised ship.

 _They didn’t have the chance to wipe their ship’s files_ , Starscream noted and that too was curious. Destruction of shipboard data was standard procedure for compromised starships… meant to keep sensitive information out of Autobot servos. That suggested whatever had happened was so sudden and unexpected that even the most basic protocols had been left unfinished.

Another few taps and Starscream began downloading all available logs, eager to get to the bottom of the matter. He hated mysteries. He crossed his arms over his front as he tried to piece together what had transpired. _Perhaps they really did use the time weapon on themselves… but how could they be so incompetent as to snare every single ‘con in the accident?_

“You’d better not have lost it,” Starscream snarled aloud to the missing Terrorcons. “I swear to Primus if that weapon is lost or damaged I will find a way to punish you for your idiocy, no matter where you are.”

Impatient, Starscream brought up the pilfered data files with harsh taps, browsing through the data at speed. The _Relentless Pursuit’s_ internal recording cameras had been running up to the point that all power had been lost, but when Starscream went to play them, there was nothing recorded but white noise and background static.

“So the Terrorcons managed to delete their files after all,” Starscream mumbled, frowning down at the useless vid files. It was the same for all data files. The loss of so much data was to be expected, but at the same time, completely unorthodox. This was not what data destruction looked like.

That was bad enough, but even more worrying was that the black box was also compromised, which shouldn't be possible. Layers of thick metal, shielding of various types, and heavy encryption should have protected it from even the worst possible scenarios, but upon downloading the data there was only white noise static.

Perplexed, Starscream attempted to log into the ship's current active files, specifically the cameras that were currently recording all communal spaces aboard the ship, which should have resumed once the power was restored. He would have preferred to search the ship for clues from a safe distance, but even his command codes had limits; remote access to the ship's active visual feeds was beyond his reach. He would have to access the security station from the ghost ship's bridge, which kind of defeated the whole point.

It seemed no answers were forthcoming.

 _If I want the weapon then I will have to storm the ship blind and retrieve it myself_ , Starscream realized, and that gave him pause. Breaking and entering was far more of a concern when so much of what had happened to the Terrorcons remained a mystery.

The communications panel began to blink, snapping Starscream out of his worries. Apparently Megatron wanted an update. _He has no way to track my exact position_ , Starscream reminded himself. _If I let him know I have reached the target he will demand an open line and then harass me ceaselessly. Best let him think I am still on my way…_

Starscream drew up straight and regal, gathered his wits, and then opened the comm line. “Mighty Megatron! To what do I owe the honour of—”

“Oh, spare me the theatrics, Starscream,” and Megatron leaned towards the screen, clearly eager for any news. “You’ve had time to review the files I sent you?”

“I have,” Starscream replied.

“And?”

“It would help if we knew what we were looking for,” Starscream complained, gesturing at the vid-screen with slim, elegant servos. “We don’t even know what it looks like. How am I to recognize it?”

Megatron seemed unconcerned. “Most likely a hand-held weapon… I would assume a gun of some sort.” His optics glazed over and it was obvious he was dreaming of something breathtakingly menacing. No doubt he was already imagining wielding it against Optimus Prime.

“While I can’t imagine how the Terrorcons could have bungled this mission so badly,” Starscream said, merrily cutting Megatron’s daydreams short, “I _am_ surprised you sent me of all mechs to clean up their mess.”

It was a deliberate poke at Megatron, an attempt to peek under his helm and get a sense for what he was thinking; arrogance, overconfidence, or sheer rank stupidity? Certainly not ignorance, for that ship had long since sailed. But Megatron ignored his pointed question with its clear threat as just another step in their dangerous, endless waltz.

“I will deal with the Terrorcons — and their incompetence — myself, assuming they have survived. Now, how soon will you reach their ship and my prize?”

Starscream deferred, not wanting to saddle himself with any irksome deadlines. “A few megacycles. I was closing in on my original prey before you so rudely interrupted me.”

“Forget the diplomat,” and Megatron smashed his fist down on the console, out of sight but well heard. “This mission takes precedence over all other concerns. I want that weapon, Starscream!”

That was certainly a fair demand. All snark aside, Starscream could find no fault with the change in plans. His smirk faded as his optics hardened. “This could change everything.” The ability to control time would be a potent tool in the Decepticon’s arsenal.

“Indeed,” Megatron agreed, mollified that his Second understood, and then finally revealed the true reason he’d called.

“I have one additional note… one of our agents captured and briefly interrogated a member of the Bra’xis team that found the weapon. Before our agent was interrupted, the Bra’xis told him that the weapon was difficult to deploy... and something else, a warning.”

“What warning?” Starscream demanded, his smirk back in full force. “Don’t accidentally shoot your fellow miscreants with it?”

“’The image of the weapon _is_ the weapon,’” Megatron quoted, pausing thoughtfully. He was clearly unsure of the meaning and then finished with, “he called it ‘the lonely assassin,’ for whatever that’s worth.”

“I don’t care what they call it,” Starscream said, irritated for all the ambiguousness, which to him amounted to nothing at all. “ _I_ call it Decepticon property.” 

Megatron grunted approval, his gaze lingering just an astro-second too long. “Keep me apprised” and then the vid-screen went dark.

The _Relentless Pursuit_ replaced Megatron’s rugged good looks, filling up the vid-screen with its dark profile, still turning in slow and listless circles.

Starscream stared at that empty space, strangely rattled. Once again he considered bringing his troops out of stasis. And once again he discarded the thought. If he wished to use the weapon against Megatron and claim his rightful place as Leader of the Decepticons, he would have to do this on his own.

The weapon would be his… and his alone.


	3. Crossing Lines

Starscream jetted through space, heading for the _Relentless Pursuit’s_ main entrance hatch.

It lay just ahead of him, still sealed tight. Fortunately he had the codes needed to open the hatch remotely; a perk of his high rank within the Decepticons.

His graceful flight form surged forward as he hurried himself along. The cold of space was punishing and soon micro-cracks began forming across his outer metal surfaces. He steeled himself against the discomfort and kept flying as this was the fastest way to board the ghost ship.

 _In and straight back out with my new weapon,_ he assured himself, as he knew he would have no backup what-so-ever. _I won’t linger longer than necessary._

The override codes ended up useless; the paltry energy burst from his ship had since faded. That meant that the _Relentless Pursuit_ was almost entirely without power. Starscream was forced to transform to open the hatch manually. Frozen gears complained mightily and then the dark interior of the ghost ship came into view.

Starscream gingerly stepped inside the entrance and then immediately sank into a fighting stance, brandishing his blaster threateningly. He’d boarded and overrun any number of enemy starships over the course of his long life, but this was the first time his intrusion went so utterly unnoticed.

Inside, the _Relentless Pursuit_ was as quiet as death.

Without the movements of the living to stir the air, all the ship-borne dust had settled into perfect stillness. Even the emergency lights had been drained away, which left him searching pensively by his own red optic light, unless he wanted to risk drawing attention to himself with brighter options.

Not for the first time did Starscream regret that he couldn't rely on his own seekers. _I would have sent Dirge ahead to take point — his fear generator would send any hidden enemies into disarray — and he loves the rush. I'd keep Skywarp and Thundercracker at my sides, the three of us heralds of the coming apocalypse. Thrust is the cautious one, I'd have him take up the rear. He's vicious if cornered..._ but they weren't with him, because they wouldn't support any of this, and Starscream shook his helm and cleared his thoughts.

_Need to keep focused._

Starscream paused to close the hatch and then tap his arm panel. The resulting chirp was to the negative. He was still unable to connect to the ghost ship’s security cameras by remote; he would have to reach the bridge if he wanted to avoid searching every nook and cranny himself.

 _Straight to the bridge then_ , Starscream thought and then after a moment’s hesitation he activated his shoulder-mounted search-lights. They would make him more of a target, but he decided the risk was worth it. Skulking around in the darkness held even less appeal. Stepping out into the hall, he looked first to the right, and then left, and was relieved to find both corridors empty.

Starscream began his infiltration with utmost caution, taking each corner with all weapon systems at the ready. It was so quiet that he could hear his own vent’s whispering air and the pulse of his spark-beat within him. The clang-clang-clang of his pede-steps sounded like a drum, and further in he caught the scents of unwashed mechs, congealed fluids, and corroded metal. This was standard for the Terrorcons, reflecting their animalistic lifestyle _._

 _There is a good chance those idiots are still alive_ , Starscream cautioned himself as he turned down the main passageway. _This could be some sort of trap, some plot by the Terrorcons to bring Megatron to them, instead of an outright assault._

Starscream could see the appeal of drawing Megatron out, and if that was the case, he fully intended to first join Hun-Gurr’s rebellion and then take over it… preferably by means of a blaster-shot to Hun-Gurr’s unsuspecting back plates, thereby avoiding all the toothy, stabby bits.

Starscream searched darkened corridors on his way to the bridge, hunting for any signs of the Terrorcons, and more importantly, the weapon itself. He did find a few blast marks on the walls leading out of the _Relentless Pursuit’s_ cargo bay, but they were sporadic and seemingly without result. It was impossible to tell if they were related to the missing Terrorcons, or just the normal wear and tear of keeping trigger-happy Decepticon warriors cooped up in confined spaces.

Starscream fingered the trigger of his blaster as he continued his trek through the darkened ship. He passed by the mess hall and took a moment to step inside the door, not surprised to see their most recent meal still lying congealed on the table they used as a communal feasting platform.

“Animals,” Starscream sneered. He left the chewed carcass of the Terrorcon’s latest Autobot victim behind without another thought.

The further Starscream ventured into the ship, the more the mystery deepened. The walls leading towards the bridge of the ship were dented, as if heavy bodies had been thrown against them in a right proper thrashing. He kept encountering small piles of sand, particularly where the dents and blast marks intersected. The scorch marks were legion.

In one particularly battered hallway, words were hastily etched into the wall.

‘Don’t blink,’ warned the scratches.

Starscream frowned, confused and irritated. His pede slipped as he shifted his weight, sliding across small spirals of sand scattered down the hallway. He kicked at the sand and then wriggled his pede to dislodge the grains, not wanting them grinding inside his delicate ankle components.

The lift to the bridge was not fair ahead, and Starscream picked up his pace, wanting nothing more then to be finished with this. He was halfway down that same corridor when he finally encountered something truly out of the ordinary.

Turning a corner, Starscream hesitated and then stopped dead in his stride… for there was a stone angel statue directly in his path. It was standing at the far end of the corridor, facing away from him. It was slate gray and beautifully chiselled, simple of form and wings. The face was androgynously humanoid and the statue stood only a little taller than Starscream himself.

The stone angel’s face was further hidden from Starscream, covered by its hands as if it were weeping.

Starscream blinked, taken aback. He could appreciate that the statue was well-carved, but otherwise had little use for sculptures that weren’t exacting copies of his own beautiful frame. He was surprised that the Terrorcons would bother with something so charmingly artistic… and so utterly worthless to the Decepticon cause.

And yet, Starscream was no fool.

This was the first truly odd thing Starscream had found and so it deserved every precaution — for what you don’t know can absolutely kill you — and so he eyed the weeping angel statue warily, working under the assumption it might be dangerous somehow.

 _Perhaps it’s the housing for the time weapon_ , mused Starscream, looking it over carefully, at first from a respectable distance. _Some sort of ornate stand, or even a control panel?_

Starscream kept his blaster close and at the ready as he approached it, but all his caution seemed for nothing. The ensuing scans he took confirmed that it was entirely inert and harmless; nothing more than a solid chunk of rock.

 _Cheap rock_ , Starscream corrected himself, as granite was non-conductive and so common as to be vulgar, utterly worthless to Cybertronians. He lowered his blaster and kicked at the base, where the carved gown reached the floor. The stone cracked for the hit, easily yielding to the superiority of his exquisite metal, further confirming the thing’s worthlessness.

“Huh,” Starscream muttered to himself, “I suppose there’s no accounting for taste.” Then he turned away and continued down the corridor, reaching the lift that lead to the bridge.

After Starscream entered the lift — the doors swishing closed behind him — the lighting in the corridor he’d left behind flickered once more, and then the corridor containing the statue plunged into pervasive darkness.

When the light flicked back on, the corridor was empty.

*** 

The _Relentless Pursuit’s_ bridge was unoccupied.

The first thing Starscream did was turn on the lights, including a large and cumbersome emergency glow-torch from his sub-space that had its own separate power source. That flooded the bridge with spark-affirming light from every angle. He was sick to death of dark corridors and eerie shadows and so the stark brightness was an enormous relief.

“Now to see what happened here,” Starscream said, tapping at the command chair’s keypad. He kept a wary optic on his surroundings and didn’t take a seat in the command chair — which was unlike him and spoke to his growing discomfort. The oppressive silence of the ghost ship was starting to get under his plating.

A few taps later and Starscream was upset to find that the ship’s files were every bit as distorted as the copies he’d downloaded. The white noise and odd flickering were exactly the same. Thwarted an easy investigation, he grudgingly strode to the security station and started there.

Starscream then scanned through the live footage of the ship’s various corridors and rooms. He focused on the areas he hadn’t visited, but was disappointed to find nothing at all. Apparently the corridor with the blast marks and scratches was where the Terrorcons had met whatever their fates had been. Whatever had happened, it must have happened there, but that left Starscream with more questions than answers.

Frustrating!

"Frag it all," Starscream exclaimed, well and truly nettled. "Thundercracker would love this. He loves these sort of stupid mysteries," and he kicked the console for emphasis.

Starscream knew he didn't have Thundercracker's patience for ferreting out hidden clues, or Skywarp's quirky optimism and way of musing that allowed for unique answers to these sorts of problems, or Dirge's eager bull-doggedness to not give up too quickly, or Thrust's sensible ambition that wouldn't have him even _considering_ entering a ghost ship without exhausting all other options in the first place.

“Better just find this stupid weapon and leave,” Starscream grumbled to himself, feeling caught out. The problem was he still had no idea what he was looking for. His lack of progress — and lack of useful seekers to help him with said progress — had him growing tetchier by the moment. He hurriedly tapped through the screens, investigating the ship’s hatch, the mess hall, the corridor he had walked through, until something caught his optic. Or rather, the lack of something.

_Where is the statue?_

Starscream began to tap through the screens, trying to find the corridor with the stone statue, but came up empty handed. Finally he stepped back from the security station’s panel, disconcerted. Oh how he hated mysteries! He was just about to give in to his instincts and flee back to his ship when the lights flickered, even his emergency glow-torch — which didn’t make any sense — but he didn’t have the time to think it over.

Starscream startled to hear the lift begin to move, first down to a different floor, and then back up again. He turned to face whatever was coming, warming up his null rays. There was no one else aboard this ship; the scanners from both ships had confirmed this.

So why was the lift moving?

Starscream stared warily as the lights around him began to flicker more aggressively, as if the power was being drained in fits and starts. He tapped his arm panel again, triggering another power burst from the _Deft Blade_ , which curiously, did nothing to help the flickering.

The emergency glow-torch winked out entirely, and then the lift arrived. The doors swished open. Starscream was just about to call a presumptively snide greeting to the Terrorcons, but fell silent instead.

For standing in the middle of the lift was the weeping angel. It was exactly as he’d last seen it — facing away from him with eyes covered — except that it had been moved from the corridor to the lift. And there was that little problem that statues didn’t move themselves — and at first he just stared.

“What the devil,” Starscream finally snapped, his lips curving back into a snarl, instantly angry to be toyed with in such a way.

The flickering bridge lights became more urgent and then the power cut out entirely, plunging the bridge into darkness. Starscream could still see the stone statue, but only because of the bright red light of his optics; a flashlight in the dark. The dim light made the statue look even more eerie.

 _It’s just a piece of stupid rock_ , Starscream thought, his overactive imagination causing him to suspect the improbable. His investigation had proven that… _but it’s the only thing that’s out of place! There’s nothing else here_ , he argued with himself. His fingers clenched into a fist even as the whispering voice in the back of his mind began shouting at him to _get out_ and conduct the investigation from the safety of his own ship.

Irritated, Starscream tapped at his arm controls and the _Deft Blade_ transmitted yet another burst of energy. The lights came back and stabilized. He tapped the console next to him, directing the lift to close and locked it to respond to him only. And just to be on the safe side, he scanned the statue again — still a hunk of useless granite. Still no threat to him… so why was the plating on the back of his neck rising?

Slowly, the lift doors closed.

“What is this?” Starscream demanded loudly, his voice shattering the eerie quiet. “Hun-Gurr? Is that you? Whatever you idiots are up to, just get to the point already!”

Moments passed, and the oppressive gloom that seemed to engulf the ship slowly swallowed his shout and smothered it to death. It seemed whoever was responsible for the odd happenings did not see fit to make themselves seen.

Starscream tapped at his arm panel and attempted to connect to any open comm line — of which there were none — and with a grimace wished the wretched Terrorcons would just _get to the point already_ and then the lights flickered again. The lift rattled. His optics darted back to the lift entrance as a loud crash startled him.

A stone fist was jutting through the lift door, suggesting the stone statue had punched right through the thick metal doors. A laughable thought, if Starscream wasn’t staring right at it; proof positive that something was very wrong.

 _They must be playing with me,_ Starscream thought, optics narrowing. It didn’t make any sense; why him, why now, why the charades? And suddenly he was as angry with himself as he was rattled for their mind games which were doing spectacular things to his adrenals.

 _Clearly the Terrorcons are not as missing as they have led us to believe,_ Starscream finally decided _. They are trying to draw Megatron out to kill him, but I arrived first, and now they are using the time weapon to hide themselves and slag with me. They think they’re going to have a laugh at my expense — but they are dead wrong._

“Alright,” Starscream called out to the room, his arms spread wide as he turned in a slow circle, suddenly calm and confident. “You’ve made your point, Hun-Gurr. Come out, and let’s speak of your plans to overthrow Megatron… and my place within them.”

Starscream was certain that would be enough to sate them and already the gears in his processer were churning as he plotted against them. _Time to turn things around on them… I will make them regret this. No one frags with me and gets away with it!_

But when his back was turned he heard a sharp screeel of metal, and whirling, his spark leapt when he saw the metal door was further peeled away, revealing the stone statue once again.

It was standing inside the opening it had torn in the lift entrance. No longer did its chiselled hands cover its face. Now it was staring straight at him. His spark leapt into this throat even as the plating on his back and wings lifted straight up again.

It was then that Starscream realized that this wasn’t the work of the Terrorcons. He knew them well enough to know they weren’t so sophisticated. Even using the time weapon to hide themselves, they wouldn’t have the imagination or the patience to generate statue after statue — placing them _just so_ over and over — simply to unnerve him.

That just wasn’t them. 

“Heh,” Starscream said, grinning nervously. “Then again, perhaps I have misjudged this situation—”

As Starscream spoke, the cleaning wipers resting at the corners of his optics fired, sliding across both his optics on rote, wiping his optic glass clean in one swift sweep… the Cybertronian equivalent of a blink. And in the nanosecond his wipers crossed his optic pupils the weeping angel went from standing behind the lift doors to standing within the room. Its hands hung relaxed at its sides, its formerly serene expression now unreadable.

Starscream heard the scream of the lift doors being torn inward only _after_ seeing the weeping angel now standing a few paces inside the room… having never actually seen the statue move.

Starscream skittered back, shocked and disbelieving. His back and wings bumped against the captain’s chair. A brush against his sensitive wings had him instinctively glancing back at the offending chair and when his optics flicked back, the weeping angel was a few paces closer — its head tilted quizzically.

His null rays snapping to the ready, Starscream brandished every weapon he had at his disposal at the strange being that was menacing him. Unaccustomed as he was to such bizarre circumstances, he nonetheless adapted quickly; such was the wages of near-endless war.

 _This is real_ , Starscream warned himself, ever the survivor. He cast aside his innate disdain for the weeping angel as was necessary and then his optics brightened as he put it all together.

“ _You_ are the weapon, aren’t you?” Starscream said as realization dawned. “You’re what the Bra’xis were going to unleash on their enemies!”

The weeping angel stood motionless, giving no indication it was listening, or even that it was anything more than the stone statue it so plainly resembled and certainly wasn’t.

Starscream fingered the blaster’s trigger, unsure what to do. “What did you do to the Terrorcons?”

Still nothing.

“Well then,” Starscream snapped, “What do you want?”

And then it happened again. Instinctively and against Starscream’s best intentions, his wipers swiped across his optics and now the weeping angel was standing an arm’s length away from him, arms outstretched…

…its expression hungry and malevolent.

Starscream shrieked, stumbling back from those horrible eyes and snarling mouth with needle-teeth and curling clawed hands. All his battle instincts came roaring to his defense. His shoulder-mounted null-rays and the blaster in his hand fired instinctively, simultaneously, blasting the weeping angel dead center.

The weeping angel crumbled into pieces. The arms broke off, the head rolled away, and the body clunked nosily to the ground. Sand scattered from the ruinous form and settled all whispery-soft. The last of the rustling faded into perfect silence.

The _Relentless Pursuit’s_ lights and internal systems stabilized instantly and Starscream’s emergency glow-torch burst into full brightness.

“That’s what you get!” Starscream shouted at the ruined thing, waving his arms and blaster vengefully, empowered by the bright lights that burnt all trace of ominousness away and now his fear turned to blazing fury. “That’s what happens to _freaks_ that try to get one over on the once and future Leader of the Decepticons!”

Enraged, Starscream stomped over to the weeping angel’s head and introduced it to the bottom of his pede, slowly crushing the thing’s face to a crumbled mess.

“You should have fled when you had the chance,” spat Starscream, the very picture of Decepticon efficiency and ruthlessness.

…and then the lights flickered again.

There was a sharp popping sound and his emergency glow-torch burnt out completely. Light and dark duelled back and forth as the lights flickered on and off — as if an aggressive timer was ticking — and more and more it seemed the light began to retreat as the length of those winks of darkness began encroaching upon him.

Starscream took in his surroundings and then looked back down at the ruined angel. His fears came roaring back and he skittered back, skirting around the mess. He kept his eyes on the pile of body parts and sand, too frightened to look away. Now intent on fleeing, he only dared tear his optics away from the mess of body parts while crawling through the hole in the lift doors. He punched the panel and the lift was just starting to move when he looked back…

…to see that the weeping angel was whole again.

It stood in the center of the bridge as if nothing untoward had happened, but now it was staring at him with wild hateful eyes. Its fangs were bared with one hand outstretched. Apparently being blasted apart and having its face stomped flat crossed a line… and now it really, really wanted to hurt him.

That wasn’t the worst thing.

It was fast enough it should have taken him right then, but it seemed to be making sport of him; it wanted him afraid, wanted him fleeing. He could tell by its face that it was going to do something unspeakably horrible to him. How do you kill something that was not actually alive when you saw it, and moved faster than could be seen when you didn’t?

There was no time to think.

An ill-timed blink had the weeping angel standing right outside the lift as if to climb in after him and Starscream shrieked as the lift dropped downwards, unwittingly whisking him out of the angel’s hands. But not a second later he heard a massive _WHUMP_ on the lift’s ceiling — the weeping angel was directly above him now — with only a flimsy metal plate between him and whatever the hell that thing was going to do to him.

Starscream didn’t waste any of the precious few seconds left to him. Instead of waiting for the slow-aft lift to reach its destination — the entire lift shuddered as a stone fist burst through the ceiling — he aimed his null rays and blaster at the floor. He blew a massive hole through the bottom of the lift, transformed and jetted through. Starscream paused only long enough to fire his blaster at the snarling weeping angel now visible through the hole in the ceiling, and then jetted his way to the shaft’s bottom at full screaming throttle.

Starscream transformed in a blur and kicked down the door — the weeping angel had just finished peeling back the ceiling’s metal — and a frantic red and white jet exploded down the corridor to the escape hatch. He made it through the outer door in the nick of time, stopping only to manually force the door to close, but also to trigger the emergency blast doors shut to add an extra layer of metal to cover his escape.

And then Starscream launched himself out into the vast and freezing vacuum of deep space, jetting back to the _Deft Blade…_

…and presumed safety.


	4. Timely Warning

Starscream threw himself back into his command chair.

He dumped his leg over the chair's arm all casual-like, but the truth was that he was still rattled to his core. That had been one hell of a close shave. Now the _Deft Blade_ was flying away from the ghost ship at speed; the faster the better as far as Starscream was concerned. Sure the weeping angel was nightmarishly fast… but there was fast and then there was _warp speed_.

“I was victorious,” Starscream insisted to himself. “I survived the fight and that makes me victorious.” It was a sort of truth, but still his spark was taking longer than usual to settle. This rarely happened to him and usually only when he was looking down the business end of a certain someone’s fusion cannon.

Speaking of….

_What am I going to tell Megatron?_

Starscream’s shoulders hunched at the thought of trying to explain to Megatron why he’d run shrieking from a fragging stone statue. Now that all the running and screaming was over it was harder to try and put into words the sheer wrongness of the weeping angel. He couldn’t offer any sort of coherent narrative that didn’t make him seem a paranoid ninny. He could hear Megatron’s mocking tones already and that inevitable conversation filled him with dread.

 _Like Megatron could have done any better…_ and then it struck him like a bolt out of the blue. _That monster would make short work of Megatron_ and try as he might, Starscream couldn’t put the thought aside. It was stupid dangerous… but now that the idea had taken hold he just couldn’t leave well enough alone.

_How best to pull it off?_

_I would have to lure Megatron in, preferably alone. Then lock him in somehow... but how to convince him to board the ship? He wouldn’t go alone unless I myself was there; he knows it wouldn’t be safe otherwise._

Another moment’s pondering and Starscream brought the _Deft Blade_ out of warp. After some hesitation, he plotted a course back to the ghost ship, but didn’t engage the engines. He still needed time to work out a fool-proof plan. Fortunately he still had a couple of mega-cycles before Megatron badgered him for further updates.

_Maybe I should tell him the Terrorcons are plotting against him and ask for his help to defeat them? No, that won’t work. He isn’t stupid enough to attack a combiner team on his own, not if he could help it. He would bring his loyalists with him. I best leave the Terrorcons out of this. Come to think of it, perhaps a direct approach would be more fruitful... if he thought it was just me he might very well come alone. That slagger loves besting me in one-on-one combat._

Starscream was still lost in schemes and lurid daydreams of victory when his communication panel lit up again, but this time from an unusual channel — one not associated with the Decepticons.

His interest piqued, Starscream tapped the panel and was only mildly surprised when the disgustingly organic face of a Bra’xis official came into focus. The creature was almost too nauseating for Starscream to bear, but then it moved out of the way. That cleared the screen for a different sort of organic; a wild-haired humanoid of small stature, indeterminable age, and intense eyes.

Starscream found the humanoid’s visage an arguable improvement. At least its basic features were recognizable, which helped settle his fuel tanks. Though there remained the problem that it _wasn’t Cybertronian_ or at least comprised of mostly metals. That was a thumbs _way_ down in Starscream’s estimation. He was just about to slap the channel closed when the humanoid took him completely by surprise.

“Hello there,” said the humanoid, greeting Starscream in his own tongue, which was as much an artistic feat as it was a respectful gesture. “I can’t tell you how happy I am to see that you are still among the presently living.”

“You speak my language,” Starscream replied. He was grudgingly impressed, but otherwise still disgusted. “Who are you and what do you want?”

“I am the doctor,” the Doctor replied, as if that explained everything. He switched back to galactic standard and as he spoke started waving some sort of thin, hand-held instrument at Starscream through the vid-screen. “I am looking for—” but then his voice trailed off as he was suddenly distracted by his instrument’s readings.

Starscream arched an optic brow. “Doctor… who?”

“Yes, precisely,’ said the Doctor, still squinting at his instrument. Then his eyes snapped back into focus and he stepped closer to the vid-screen. He tapped the tip and his device closed with a click. “I have need of your assistance and believe me — you have need of mine.”

Starscream grew instantly perturbed at the thought of needing any sort of help from a meat-sack, for any sort of reason. His fingers hovered over the keypad. He was keen to end the transmission as he had no interest whatsoever in organic beings. He wanted neither their thoughts nor their assistance and especially disliked the squishy-meat-sounds that came out of their disgustingly wet orifices. He said as much, but halfway through his xenophobic tirade he found himself rudely interrupted.

“—and I find your xenophobic propensities and complete lack of common sense equally appalling, but that’s nothing compared to what is at stake here.”

“What is at stake here is the Leadership of the Decepticons,” snapped Starscream, fingers still hovering, still keen to close the channel. “I assume you are looking for _my_ time weapon, seeing as you are keeping the Bra’xis company.”

“So you have found _my_ missing monster,” said the Doctor retorted, nettled. “Good. Now, for the sake of your own life if no one else’s you must tell me exactly where you are — and what time it is in that exact place down to the millisecond — so that I may stop the “time weapon” as you so quaintly called it, preferably before more people start dying.”

“So you want me to help you destroy it,” Starscream said thoughtfully, and then his optics narrowed. “I confess I wouldn’t be opposed considering how bothersome it is — but not until after it kills someone for me.”

“No,” said the Doctor with utmost force. “No, they don’t work like that. As I have explained to my new friends the Bra’xis,” and here he offered up a thin smile, “allowing the Weeping Angels access to an otherwise perfectly time-stable universe is quite simply the worst idea that any person, anywhere, has ever had.”

Starscream leaned back in his chair with a smirk.

The way the Doctor had called them “friends” suggested to him that the Bra’xis were anything but and Starscream couldn’t resist stirring that pot. “And did your ‘new friends’ tell you that, after capturing it, they intended to use it against their enemies?”

“They didn’t capture it — they stole it from containment after tricking me into showing them where it was,” said the Doctor, spearing the Bra’xis with a look containing so much gentlemanly disapproval as to make them squirm. “They wrongly believed they could control it.”

“Ingenious,” said Starscream, already planning to do much the same. “You must admit — even as difficult as it will be to deploy — it’s one hell of a weapon.”

“No,” said the Doctor, his eyes intense. “The Weeping Angels are _not_ weapons; they are the most lethal monsters the universe has ever created.”

Starscream looked pointedly down at himself and then back up to the screen. He was about to say something self-flattering, but at the last moment thought better of it. He smiled charmingly at the screen instead.

The Doctor did not miss that less-then-subtle confession; his expression grew particularly harsh. “I did some checking before I contacted you — and I know what the Weeping Angel did to your cohorts.” He offered up the name of one of Cybertron’s oldest museums, even naming the exhibit in question in such a way as to suggest he’d been there before. “You will find them there, or rather, what time has left of them.”

“Thank you,” said Starscream, in all sincerity. “I should very much like to know what happened to them, but also what is going to happen _very_ soon to a certain someone.”

The Doctor wasn’t happy with that. “I strongly suggest you reconsider whatever insidious plans you are making. The Weeping Angels send you back in time — all it takes is a single touch. They then feed on the remaining time energy of the victim's unlived life. You are just as likely to be that victim.”

“Wait — what? That’s not so dangerous,” exclaimed Starscream. “So that’s it then? They just send you back, but leave you alive and well?!”

Starscream was already considering the possibilities, suddenly far less horrified at the prospect. There were so many ways simply being sent back in time could work in his favor. Imagine taking Megatron’s place before the Great War had even properly kicked off — with all the knowledge of what was to come? The possibilities were mind-boggling!

“You aren’t **listening** ,” the Doctor said, seemly struggling to maintain his civility. “They feed on the energy of your **unlived life** which means you **don’t** live to return to the present. They send you back far enough that you are effectively dead — your life **already spent**.”

“Well, that’s a matter of perspective, isn’t it?” Starscream retorted, clinging to all that glorious potential like a space barnacle to a spaceship’s hull. “My species is particularly long-lived. We’re practically immortal! I see no reason a careful mech couldn’t—”

“They _choose_ where to send you.”

Starscream’s optics grew unfocused and pensive. He realized he’d need some time to think things over. His optics re-focused and then he changed tactics. “Oh, very well. Tell me how to destroy the creature.”

“You can’t,” said the Doctor, seemingly doubting Starscream’s sincerity and growing tetchier by the moment. “At least, not in any conventional way. You can lock them in their stone form, you can starve them into near-nothingness over the course of eons, but nothing I’ve found ever truly destroys them. They can always come back. This one is particularly vivacious; feasting on the unsuspecting and increasing in mass exponentially.”

“Then tell me how to contain it,” Starscream demanded, and then added, “attacking it outright didn’t work. It broke into pieces easily enough, but reformed as soon as I looked away.”

“Physical damage is useless against them,” the Doctor grudgingly agreed. “They are quantum-locked, which means they don't exist when they are being observed. The instant they are seen by any other living being they freeze into rock — which is their greatest strength but also their greatest weakness. The only way to contain them is to ‘keep an eye on them’ — and I mean that in a very physical way.”

Starscream frowned. “So in other words, you have to keep staring at them so that they remain in a state of non-existence.”

“Correct,” said the Doctor, “but there’s so much more to them than that. I’ll go into more detail later,” and then he insisted Starscream give him the information he needed, for the good of all mankind.

Perhaps a poor choice of words.

“Oh, I think not,” said Starscream with a twisted smile. “Thank you Doctor — you’ve been most helpful,” and then he killed the comm line.

***

**Many Hours Later…**

“This can’t be them,” Starscream muttered.

The Natural History Museum housed a premium collection of predacon bones from Cybertron’s deep past; before the rise of the current Cybertronian population.

The museum and all physical exhibits had been long since destroyed — an early casualty of the Great War — to the point that only the digital database survived. Preserved within that archive was a treasure trove of detailed scans and vid-stills of Cybertron’s prehistoric wildlife — the most striking of which were the beautifully photographed specimens. It was among those pictures of old bones that Starscream found the sad remains of the Terrorcons.

It couldn’t be, and yet it absolutely was them.

Starscream tapped at the controls, pulling up more detailed scans. “Holy frag,” he muttered as he pieced together their last moments alive, which could not have been pleasant.

Hun-Gurr was the most recognizable of them, though his frame was flayed to a horrific degree. While there was little left of him beyond chewed bones, his distinctive two-headed faces were still somewhat distinguishable. It seemed he’d gone down fighting; the victim of a far greater caliber of monster. The rest of his team was much the same.

Starscream read the captions below their painstakingly reconstructed corpses with a growing sense of schadenfreude. Their exhibits had served Cybertron for countless years as intellectual curiosities of the prehistoric times. _They’ve been rotting under our noses all this time, but we never recognized them_.

The Terrorcons had been dug up by erstwhile archaeologists from a bone-site outside what was now central Kalis. Starscream read the captions with some amusement; apparently the majority of their various parts had traveled down the business ends of some predacon pack to rest unceremoniously in various fossilized piles of coprolites, only to be pieced back together by those same archaeologists.

 _What an embarrassing end_ , thought Starscream, and he almost felt bad for them.

Almost.

Starscream tapped the screen thoughtfully. _Then again, were they always lying here? Or did the time line change so that they just appeared to have always been dead?_ He wasn’t caught up on current temporal theories and now didn’t have the inclination as he was too busy furthering the Decepticon Cause, which mostly involved committing ridiculous amounts of mass murder.

Starscream suddenly smiled, thinking of all the various species — trillions of individuals — he’d helped Megatron and the Decepticons extinguish over the endless eons. _Perhaps we are not so different from the predacons after all._

For the predacons had prowled Cybertron as ferocious beasts, existing in simple hunting packs. They were so powerful — so relentlessly brutal — that civilization had no chance to arise until their unwitting destruction, an event known as the Cataclysm.

 _They’d still be stalking across Cybertron if not for the massive gamma burst from a nearby star that destroyed them all,_ Starscream remembered from previous readings. The event had scoured all life from Cybertron and nearly snuffed out Cybertron’s core. _It took hundreds of millions of years before the planet recovered enough to start spawning life again._

Starscream tapped the panel again, and the vid-screen went dark. He’d seen enough. _This will work_ , he thought, growing more and more excited. _All I have to do is get Megatron on board the Relentless Pursuit, within striking range of the Angel, and then bust aft out of there while it takes care of Megatron for me! And even if the predacons don’t finish Megatron, the Cataclysm certainly will._

 _This is my best chance at defeating Megatron… I have to take it,_ and Starscream could imagine it already. _Oh Megatron, you unsuspecting fool._ His optics glazed over while he imagined the look on Mighty Megatron’s face after being taken by surprise, the sheer horror of facing a lifetime spent in deep time, utterly alone, his hopes and dreams dashed forever while constantly being hunted, only to eventually succumb to hordes of ravenous Predacons.

 _Eaten alive._

_Oh Megatron, what you don’t know can absolutely kill you_ , and Starscream laughed to himself over the tap-tap-tap of his finger tips on his command chair's panel. He was about to engage the ship’s engines on a return course to the ghost ship when the vid-screen at the tactical station blipped.

Starscream turned and stared. The last task he’d used it for was to try and access the _Relentless Pursuit’s_ data files, including recordings. The screen was still showing the background static, but now it was showing tiny slices of data in-between longer spaces of static.

Starscream stood up and stalked over to the station. He placed a hand on the chair, considering. Then he took a seat and started browsing the logged vid-files. Those were still inaccessible, a static-ridden mess, which matched his previous experience. But having been on the ghost ship’s bridge and having downloaded Hun-Gurr’s command codes, he was now able to access the ghost ship’s internal cameras.

Those should have been useless too, but curiously the same cameras that had only recorded background noise and static were now working perfectly.

_Huh._

Starscream scowled at the screen and tapped at the keypad again. He searched the ghost ship, corridor by corridor, until he found what he was looking for.

It was in the mess hall, unmoving.

Starscream stared at the weeping angel through the vid-screen, his optics taking in the stone-gray form, the wretched color of death. It seemed far less dangerous from a distance. Its back was turned to the camera with graceful wings at rest. Its hands were covering its face, just as he’d originally seen it.

 _What are you up to_?

Starscream felt a shiver run up his spinal strut. The paranoid part of him — responsible for keeping him alive for so long — whispered unease in his mind. _This can’t be a coincidence_ , and yet he appreciated being able to track the murderous thing from a safe distance.

All the better to set a trap for Megatron.

“You don’t know it yet,” Starscream said imperiously, a sneer on his lips, “but you are _my_ weapon. I will turn you against my greatest enemy and when I am through with you — I will destroy you.”


	5. Temporal Traps

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Skywarp and Thundercracker in the next chapter.

“—I will destroy you.”

Starscream glared at the stone statue and felt better for the threat; more in control. It helped that he was sitting behind the _Deft Blade’s_ tactical station panel, watching the weeping angel from a live security feed from the ghost ship, and not in any danger. His optics lost focus for a moment as he pondered his next move.

It almost seemed like the weeping angel heard him. He knew it was impossible, but when he looked back it had moved. Well, maybe it had moved. Starscream wasn’t entirely sure. Its hands seemed like they were lower, not covering its face so much, but he couldn’t say for sure.

Starscream was still peering at the screen when his comms pinged. At first he was worried that Megatron was calling — it was just a matter of time before the Slagmaker started climbing right up his aft-hole for the precious time weapon — but then he recognized the caller ID tag as the Doctor from before.

Starscream was instantly peeved. He’d already had the last word. Now he wasn’t interested in the meat-sack anymore, but the comms would not stop blinking. _That disgusting organic is really persistent_ , he thought, trying to ignore it.

_—ping-ping-ping—_

“Oh fraggit,” but Starscream only opened the comm for a single klik then cheerfully slammed it closed again. It was the equivalent of hanging up in someone’s ear. Juvenile, but oh-so-satisfying.

“Eat slag and die,” Starscream said gleefully.

His amusement was short-lived. For when Starscream looked back at the vid-screen, the weeping angel had definitely moved. It was still facing away from him, but its hands were down at its sides. One of them was clenched into a fist.

Starscream’s grin vanished, replaced with a frown. Then he blinked and it was standing closer to him — or rather it was closer to the camera lens that was recording it from half a sector away — and looking directly at him. Its face was expressionless.

Starscream reminded himself of the vast distance between them. _This thing can’t actually hurt me._ He took a deep breath, resettled his wings, and found his confidence again. _It’s got a convincing shtick_ , _but I am a Prince of Vos, the Air Commander of the Decepticons_ — _I’ve killed more than this thing could ever hope to achieve_. _It’s probably jealous of my clear superiority!_

“I must imagine this is frustrating for you — being outclassed in every single way,” said Starscream snidely, but then went quiet. _Wait… the camera lens is microscopic and hidden inside the ship’s wall._ It should be completely invisible to the weeping angel.

 _It shouldn’t even know I am watching it,_ Starscream realized, now thoroughly unsettled. His optics, momentarily unfocused, returned to the statue.

Its expression had changed; dreadful and snarling.

 _It can see me_ , and by that point Starscream’s bravado wisely abandoned him. He decided to do the prudent thing and shut down the live camera feed. He tapped the keypad, but nothing happened. The screen was locked onto the angel somehow. The angel’s face remained facing him, its eyes staring straight into his.

It made his optics itch.

Starscream leaned away from the screen while instinctively reaching his fingers towards his optics, but when his hand crossed his optical orbit the angel had crossed the room and was the equivalent of a few feet away from him.

Its upper face dominated the vid-screen.

Starscream yelped and threw himself backwards. His blaster appeared in his hand faster than fast, survival instincts kicking in. He only barely avoided shooting out the screen because something inside him was still insisting he should be safe. He remembered the warning only a little too late.

The image of an angel _is_ an angel.

“That’s not possible,” Starscream insisted, even as dread realization dawned. “It really is though, isn’t it? You can see me.”

The weeping angel’s eyes remained fixed upon him.

“Frag,” and Starscream did the only thing he could do while awkwardly keeping eye contact with a murderous stone statue; blindly grope the surrounding control panels until something he tried helped. But nothing worked, and then he poked something he shouldn’t have which caused warning klaxons to go off.

“Frag!”

 _Stupid lack of redundancies_ , Starscream cursed, somewhat embarrassed. This was only partly because he’d argued against them way back when, saying things like “it slows reaction time” and the ever poignant “stupidity should be lethal” which was largely what swayed Megs over to his side.

Because Decepticons _were_ supposed to be smarter than that; they didn’t need their hands held like those sissy Autobots with their warning screens and ‘are you sure you want to vent all atmosphere and compromise critical ship systems’ messages because of course he wanted to vent the all the atmosphere on the ship I mean didn’t he just _push that big red button_ and yet here he was _the smartest of them all_ and losing atmosphere fast and the next to go would be the cooling systems and then the engine room was sure to catch fire and wouldn’t that be just awesome now _where the hell is that cancel button?!_

Starscream dared to look down for the barest instant at the panel to shutoff the emergency venting systems. When he looked back not even a second later—

—the weeping angel was through the screen.

“Heh,” Starscream said, grinning sheepishly, “Welcome aboard the _Deft Blade_.”

Starscream’s hastily restored gaze had locked it right outside of the tactical station’s vid-screen. This had the thing standing a few paltry paces away, which was too damned close.

“Sorry about the breeze,” continued Starscream merrily. “It was stuffy in here so I cracked a window.” He lifted his arms like he was greeting an old friend, but in fact it was mostly his circuits frying because he had no idea what to do.

The weeping angel held no opinion on the matter of breezes. It was standing on the bridge and clearly heading straight for Starscream. It was snarling with one hand reaching out for him. It did look different though, all glowing and translucent. It seemed more like a digital projection instead of solid stone.

“Hmm,” and Starscream, having noted the oddity, pulled out his blaster. He considered just shooting the vid-screen directly, but thought better of it. Too great a chance he could damage something critical. He took careful aim at the thing's head instead and pulled the trigger, but the shot passed harmlessly through the digital angel. It had no effect whatsoever. It did leave a scorch mark on the far wall, perilously close to something important.

“Umm,” and Starscream made a gesture for 'one moment.' He started awkwardly digging through his subspace, one hand down his front and appeared to be making (to the uninitiated) obscene gestures while keeping direct eye contact with the statue.

“So, this isn’t what it looks like,” Starscream assured his visitor, adding “I feel like you should know I don’t find you attractive in the slightest” and then he found what he was looking for.

Starscream pulled out an electro-rifle meant for long-range sniping. He rarely used such a weapon and so handled it awkwardly; especially since the barrel was so long he had to lean back over the navigation panel so that it lined up with the angel’s head.

“I apologize for this,” Starscream said sincerely while sliding his finger onto the trigger. “I normally kill things like you with far more style — you might not know this but getting slagged by me is a big deal — it’s just you _showed up in my house_ with no warning and now I have to _scrabble around_ like some dirt-farming peasant to accommodate you, so really, this is all your fault.”

Starscream pulled the trigger and the specialty weapon fired. The shot was supposed to be business in the front and party in the back; first to puncture a mech’s plating and then the EMP casing would light up said mech’s everything until sufficiently dead.

It was not effective.

“Nothing, eh?” said Starscream, looking crestfallen. “I am running out of options here. Are you _sure_ I can’t just shoot you with something?”

The weeping angel remained exactly where Starscream had locked it, except now Starscream’s optics were itching and he had to force himself to stay focused when all he really wanted was to scratch at his optics with both hands and maybe a decently-sharpened rake.

“Alright,” said Starscream while inching backwards, “guns are pretty much useless so I’m going to need you to work with me here,” and he retreated towards the doors that lead to a corridor that lead to the battle room, the captain’s quarters, and the lift. “How about you stay here while I figure something out?”

It was then that the itching overwhelmed Starscream. His right optic half-twitched which resulted in a duel gritty blink. This had the weeping angel right up in his face _—_ barely inches away.

Starscream gasped and swallowed back a shriek. He knew the next blink would be his last. Stepping back through the door, he triggered it closed and then used that short reprieve to bolt for the lift. He took the next corridor down at a sprint, making sure to key each door he could closed behind him, including blast doors meant to keep marauding Autobots at bay.

 _It’s digital_ , Starscream thought over the sound of his pounding feet. _It doesn’t have any mass, but hopefully not knowing where I am will slow it down._ It also seemed keen to play with him, so there was that. Honestly, he should be dead by now and he knew it. He even took some strange pride in having lasted so long when Megatron was sure to get pasted in the opening credits.

 _It must need the screen powered, because it wouldn’t let me shut it down_ , Starscream reasoned, sprinting down a corridor leading to the heart of his ship. _Maybe if I cut the power that will kill the screen and cut off the projection._

 _I am such a genius_ , Starscream thought while passing the room containing the remaining stasis pods, including the ones containing his trine, without a qualm. _Soon everyone will know it._

Starscream kept running, heading towards the engine room in the bowels of the ship to enact his plan, but it wasn’t long before the weeping angel caught up with him. He turned the corner at a full sprint and—

—there it was.

Starscream couldn’t stop himself in time and barrelled right into its open arms. He didn't see it move but felt ghostly hands upon him and he shrieked — but didn’t travel back in time.

Instead Starscream bounced off the nearest wall. The strike was so brutal that an organic would have broken all their tacky calcium-based bones. As it was, Starscream had deep furrows where the angel had grabbed him, his metal torn with ease.

The weeping angel was standing dead ahead, locked into non-existence only by the force of Starscream’s shocked stare. For a projection lacking in all mass its attacks were amazingly vicious. Apparently it intended to decently hurt him — coating him in his own blood — before sending him back to be immediately scented and then eaten alive by predacons.

And now the monster was smiling.

“Wow, time out,” called Starscream from the floor, cradling his torn and bleeding side, his wings shaking for surprise. “When did this get so fragging personal?”

The _pat-pat-pat_ of Starscream’s blood dripping from the weeping angel’s hands was his answer.

Starscream’s optics narrowed hatefully as he regained his feet. “Okay, be like that,” and he carefully backed away. He'd put a few paces between them when a bright light went off in his helm and — still staring at the murder statue — he began tapping at his arm panel.

“You don’t like it when people see you,” Starscream muttered. If the image of an angel is an angel, then it stood to reason that a weeping angel staring at its own reflection was in fact seeing another angel — which should lock them both.

“This had better work,” and Starscream backed away until reaching a corner. Then he bolted into the nearest room with a decent vid-screen setup. The door closed behind him, another momentary reprieve. His optics ached for the strain and his foot slipped in the blood trail he was leaving in his wake. All meaningless distractions. He wiped his face and then reprogrammed the ship’s vid-screens to be reflective while he waited for the weeping angel to come for him.

Starscream didn’t have long to wait.

Metal screamed and bent. The weeping angel didn't have any mass and Starscream had to appreciate that the only reason the angel was ripping its way through a door it could float through was because it was fragging terrifying. Game recognized game, but Starscream knew _he_ was the better monster.

And so Starscream stood with his back to the vid-screen, his graceful wings hiding it completely. The screen was currently dark, but his hand hovered over his arm panel as the weeping angel forced its way into the room. He took a calculated risk and blinked.

Sure enough, the hateful thing was right up in his face again.

Starscream held the weeping angel tightly with his stare and then smiled triumphantly. A few taps of his fingers and every single vid-screen on the ship became a mirror — and then he stepped aside. The vid-screen hidden behind him now held the image of an angel. It was the exact same one that was menacing him; staring at itself with cruel eyes.

“Take _that_ you fragger!” Starscream shouted, dancing in place. Laughing, he pumped the air with his fist. “You thought you could outsmart me?”

Outmaneuvered, it seemed the weeping angel had nothing to say.

***

Starscream stared at the captive angel.

 _Insane how something so simple could be so fragging terrifying_ , Starscream thought sombrely. He'd patched up his side, still surprised for the extent of the wound. It had taken him some time before his wings stopped shaking, but it seemed the threat was contained. He could even look away without fear of it moving. Standing near the door, he was thinking things through now that he had the time for it.

“The image of an angel is an angel,” Starscream repeated, now understanding what Megatron had unwittingly warned of. “But this isn’t you — not really. Too digital. You must be some sort of astral projection? Your real body is still back on the ghost ship.”

 _Maybe I should just send a vid-still of the weeping angel to Megatron,_ and Starscream drummed his knuckles against his thigh. But he soon disregarded that option as too precarious. It wouldn’t do to have Megs clue in to the danger too fast.

_Megatron needs to come barging into a situation he thinks he fully understands. He knows me. He knows I have a ‘time weapon’ and that I plan on using it against him. He is still expecting a stupid gun. He thinks he has a full handle on things because he knows… he knows he has a full handle on me._

That hurt to admit, even to himself.

Even worse, Starscream’s optics continued to itch. He reached up to scratch them and a sprinkling of sand pattered out from his optics. “Frag,” he muttered and then began to reboot his optical systems. It was bizarrely difficult. The effort it took to force his optics to close and then commence a full optical shutdown/restart was unusual, but once his optical feed cut out he felt instantly better.

“This keeps getting weirder and weirder,” Starscream mumbled, wiping away the grains. His wings were at full mast and the tips were shivering. And somehow, however impossible, the weeping angel seemed to droop ever so slightly, as if absolutely guttered over some scheming that had gone awry.

 _I’m losing my mind_ , and Starscream smacked himself in the helm _. I can’t let my imagination get the better of me_ , he thought even as a full-frame shudder made his plates rattle. That sound upset him because it sounded too much like defeat and he scowled. _Keep it together. This just proves Megatron is as good as dead._

Starscream had just ordered himself to _get a grip already_ when his comms pinged again. This time he was so rattled that he opened them without thinking.

“I’ve tracked your location,” said the Doctor without preamble. “Are you aware that the Weeping Angel is projecting itself onto your ship — and even now may be hunting you down?”

“YES I AM AWARE!”

Starscream shrieked, fists clenching, losing a grip on his normally sequestered hysteria while enduring weird-fragging-slag, which momentarily escaped into his voice. He clamped that part of him straight back down as it never, ever helped him stay alive in these sorts of situations, unless it was Megatron, because Megatron found that sort of thing uproariously hilarious, and then it was the only thing that kept him alive.

_Whatever._

“I found something else,” said the Doctor, with utmost calm. “Something you need to see.” There was another ping when he sent a file through the comm line.

“I don’t have time for this!” Starscream shouted, but when he checked the stone statue was still trapped by its own stare. It was completely motionless and entirely without life, but he would swear on his wings it looked absolutely torqued... so apparently he did have some time.

“Open it,” the Doctor insisted. “It will help save countless lives.”

Starscream scowled. “What is it?” he demanded, wholly uninterested in saving ‘countless lives’ unless one of those lives was his own. Maybe the lives of his trine brothers, not that he would ever admit to the last part.

It wasn’t Decepticon.

“Something I found in the deep past,” replied the Doctor, sounding rather cagey.

“I don’t care about saving lives — that’s sooo obviously your problem,” Starscream said with a sneer. Even so, he tapped at his arm panel, inspecting the file. The com line went quiet. Now Starscream’s interest was piqued, especially after realizing the file contained such a small amount of data that it couldn’t be dangerous.

What was the harm?

Starscream opened the file and then downloaded the single vid-still that the file contained. The single image appeared on his personal screen and his spark skipped a beat.

The image was of one of the Natural History Museum’s exhibits — and now Starscream knew that time was changing as events were altered because this exhibit was not previously listed — showcasing the remains of two presumed predacons.

They were entangled in a lurid embrace. The first of the two corpses was lying flat on his back with no identifying features. He was all but rusted away. His frame was heavily merged into the huge chunk of metal he’d been resting on at the time of his death.

But it was the one resting atop the first corpse that caught and held Starscream’s gaze. Or more specifically, the two wing blades jutting out of the corpse’s back. The frame was also rusted beyond recognition, but those were _seeker_ wings.

Starscream’s spark sank to his feet. “What — is this?”

“The distant past and your future,” said the Doctor, but did not otherwise elaborate. His voice darkened as he spoke, sounding grimly satisfied. “I know who and what you are now — and so I wanted you to see it. I wanted you to know specifically what was coming.”

“You’re trying to frighten me into turning my weapon over to you,” Starscream accused, his hands clenching into fists. No one was taking his weapon from him. Not until Megatron was dead. “You think you can intimidate me into helping you?”

“Under normal circumstances, yes,” confessed the Doctor. “But in this case I have decided not to interfere with your plans.”

“Wait — then how does this help you save ‘countless lives’ presumably my own among them?” demanded Starscream, now confused. “If this is a warning, well it’s useless. I’ve got everything under control,” and then he added “and anyway, how do you know this is me?”

“I have certain abilities, certain tools at my disposal,” said the Doctor, and then he seemed to change the subject, though not really. “You’ve been very busy over your long life, haven’t you?”

“What do you mean, busy?” demanded Starscream, his hands landing on his hips. He didn’t care for that sanctimonious tone, or all the ambiguous poppycock. He especially wasn’t going to let this bag of wet meat know how rattled he was, and so forced them back on topic.

“I still need this monster to kill someone for me,” Starscream announced grandly. “You can’t have it, not yet. Now, if not to save me, then why did you contact me?”

“I never interrupt an enemy when he is making a mistake,” explained the Doctor, while paradoxically not explaining a damned thing. “And most certainly not when making a mistake of such calamity as to result in no less than three mass murderers conspiring to destroy each other.”

That was a confusing answer, and frankly, sounded more than a little hostile. “If you aren’t here to help me then stay out of my way,” threatened Starscream, with no small amount of haughty confidence. He couldn’t care less what this meat sack thought of him. “Oh, and for the record, we aren’t enemies. You don’t rate — and believe me, you don’t want me as an enemy. You’ve never seen a monster like _me_.”

Starscream smiled twistedly because that was no idle threat. There was no response for a long moment. It seemed he’d finally taken the wind out of the Doctor’s smug sails.

“Very well then,” said the Doctor finally. “Though if you want to defeat Megatron, then you best hurry.”

“I’ll defeat Megatron at my own—”

“You don’t have much time,” interrupted the Doctor. “You never do with _them_.”


	6. Calculated Losses

Starscream hurried towards the Deft Blade’s engine room, one hand pressed to his side. Insistent twinges demanded attention and he winced when he saw how discolored the patch was. His blood and internal fluids were staining it purple at the edges.

It was still leaking.

Starscream’s hasty patch job left much to be desired — the general lack of medical training among seekers a weakness in his opinion. The only mech on the ship with any decent medical skills was Thrust, and even that was an aberration. Old prejudices claimed seekers were too erratic for meticulous medical work and so most never bothered. All except Thrust. He’d enthusiastically challenged the old dogma, daring to try and enter the medic-aid programs.

The Seeker Armada and especially Starscream had cheered him on. So when Thrust came to him and confessed he'd been refused on unfair grounds Starscream had punched _so many faceplates_ to make sure Thrust made it into the program. And once trained, he turned out to be a decent medic-aid; patching up many a torn wing.

The only problem was Thrust was still deep in his stasis nap. Starscream was well aware that after waking his fellow seeker he’d have some explaining to do. There was a good chance Thrust would either ‘accidentally’ wake the others, or sneak a warning to Megatron to hedge his bets and cover his aft. No one wanted to be on the losing side of a regime change.

It still wasn’t worth the risk and so Starscream sighed and resigned himself to some quality leakage. He readjusted his grip with a wince, carefully supporting his sore metal.

It was a potent reminder that he was playing with fire.

The walk down the corridor leading to the engine room seemed to take longer than normal. Starscream’s footsteps echoed down the corridor, at times seeming to come from behind him. Anxiety had him jumping at every sound.

Leaving the weeping angel behind, although still safely trapped, was harder than he thought. Under normal circumstances — angel-haunted ghost ships notwithstanding — starships were anything but quiet. They rattled and settled and shifted and blipped and bleeped and opened doors for him without asking. Normally beneath notice, his senses were hyper-attuned thanks to the damned jump scares he’d been enduring. His wings were all a-quiver and his plating hinges ached for all the tension.

Starscream sighed again. His lips thinned as he faced his fears with a little more honesty. The close calls had definitely rattled him, but it was the image of the two entwined corpses that was responsible for the chill in his spinal strut. _Assuming that seeker is actually me_ , he reminded himself once again.

 _And anyway, there are other seekers aboard this ship_ and Starscream both flinched and perked up for the obvious way out of his conundrum. _It must be two of them that get slagged, not me_. His spark felt queasy when he finished that train of thought. _It **has** to be two of them instead of me. _It was such a cold thought that even he shied away from the face of it.

The thought of losing Thundercracker and Skywarp gutted him. His spark dropped straight into his feet. _No, not them. Never them. I’d rather…_ but he didn’t finish the thought. A new one crept in to take its place. There were two other seekers in stasis that didn’t have his spark wrapped around their flicking wings.

Even so, Starscream had been their Air Commander for eons. Losing them would be a blow to his inner circle and would weaken his soft power. There weren’t that many seekers left in his Armada. The loss of even a few of them would be devastating.

 _Sacrifices might have to be made but only if absolutely necessary_ , Starscream consoled himself. He was already mentally distancing himself from what he suspected must be done. The little pep talk helped. His plating settled and his confidence returned _. It will all be worth it when I am Lord of the Decepticons. I will usher in a new age of prosperity, a future worth sacrificing for! Anyway, as long as I stay ahead of this thing no one but Megatron has to die._

Losing fellow seekers was terribly morbid and so Starscream hurried through the engine room doors and straight to the appropriate station; the panel that controlled the power to various areas of the ship. But the chill returned when he keyed in the correct commands — and nothing happened. Another few attempts had him glaring down at the main control panel. No matter what he did it refused to respond to him.

_Was this how Hun-Gurr met defeat? Slowly locked out of his own ship’s systems? Trapped within an increasingly useless ship marooned in deep space while relentlessly hunted by a being that could never die, until finally worn down and then murdered?_

Starscream shook for frustration. How was he going to cut the power to the entire ship using a control panel that the weeping angel — the one presumably still on the ghost ship — appeared to have control of?

Difficult to deploy, indeed.

“You are an unholy pain in my aft-hole!” Starscream snarled back over his shoulder at his currently unseen, but still troublesome weapon. “You are lucky I still need you, but just you wait until I’m finished with you! I haven’t worked it out yet — I am going to ruin you!”

Then Starscream’s rage collapsed and he rubbed at his temples. _What to do now?_ The only thing he could think of was a manual shut down, which was a troublesome process that usually only ever occurred for serious maintenance of the engine block.

Starscream paused and then stepped away from the panel. He hurried over to manual control and — like some grease-covered maintenance drone — carefully shut down the main lines to various critical sections of the ship. This triggered those various systems to initiate their emergency sequestration protocols, which would keep the _Deft Blade_ from exploding when the power core was rudely disconnected.

“Heh,” Starscream murmured while wiping his greasy hands, “You must not realize what I’m up to, seeing as you aren’t putting up much of a fight.” His smile faded when he considered his next steps, which involved climbing down into the engine’s core and manually unscrewing and capping every single cable, cord, and pipe leading outwards from the core itself.

Peering down towards the core chamber confirmed Starscream’s suspicions; thousands of such connections were spiralling out from the core itself. That was a lot of grease. Primus, the sheer mountains of slag he was willing to put up with in service of his ambitions!

Starscream still remembered the last time he’d been party to such a dirty chore; aboard the Nemesis many eons ago. They’d taken damage and the chief engineer was laid up in med-bay. Megatron had taken it upon himself to get the engine core online, and in a fit of mimsy had dragged Starscream down with him. This resulted in the two of them getting disgustingly dirty together.

Starscream shuddered at the memory, particularly the massive full-body celebratory hug Megatron had insisted on when the core had powered up, wholly aware how fastidious he was. _That bastard!_ His shudder intensified as he remembered that massive greasy squeeze with its accompanied smirk. _Megs really enjoyed that._

Megatron aside, this was the sort of job Starscream always pawned off on his subordinates; complete with unrealistic deadlines and lots of unscheduled inspections which always ended with him — his plating immaculate as befitting his beautiful self — shrieking and throwing things at his hapless minions. In other words, this was going to take forever.

One of the engine’s control panels chirped. It was a routine noise, but still broke Starscream out of his musing and fretting. It also reminded him that his pet weapon was still waiting for him to make a point of all this.

Long delays seemed unwise.

‘You don’t have much time,’ Starscream remembered the doctor saying. ‘You never do with them.’ He feared it was true. _There has to be a way to hurry this up._ His fingers curled under his chin as he once again debated waking up the others, considering how deathly allergic he was to menial labour.

_I could have Thundercracker stationed at the console, and then send the other three down to start unplugging hoses. Dirge won’t need supervision, but Thrust will need some motivation to hurry, and Skywarp will — actually, wait a second — I could just get Skywarp to “hug” the engine core!_

Starscream perked up at the thought. ‘Hugging things’ was a Skywarp specialty, involving him walking up to a friend, co-worker, casual acquaintance, or complete fragging stranger and giving them what appeared to be a bear hug and then teleporting them in place instantaneously while vibrating his hands — whereupon Skywarp would vanish — causing the unfortunate to projectile vomit onto the nearest onlooker; whomever Skywarp disliked at the moment, or whomever owed Skywarp credits, or especially whomever had bothered Starscream to an excessive degree.

That last part was why Starscream tolerated that sort of thing. The resulting explosion of mechs familiar with Skywarp Hugs scattering in all directions like frantic quail was also amusing, so long as he wasn’t in the splatter zone.

 _What a stupendous idea! A Skywarp Hug would cut the power for enough time to shut down all the vid-screens and we wouldn’t have to bother with unhooking all the hoses!_ — with the obvious problem that Skywarp would have to be awake, at which point he would be on the comms blabbing to Megs in a flat second.

“This wouldn’t be a problem if mechs would just obey me without questioning everything!” and Starscream started kicking the console again. That made his side hurt, so he stopped before he really got started. There was no other option. He would have to uncouple the hoses himself.

It was at this point that Starscream ran out of time. His newly endangered status was announced by an ominous overhead flicker. His optics shot to the ceiling as the lights began to falter. He instantly realized the danger. _You can’t see your reflection in a mirror in the dark!_

Starscream abandoned the engine room and bolted for the door. He raced back towards the room were the weeping angel was trapped. He checked the status of the rest of the ship as he ran, pulling up a power map on his arm panel.

What a surprise; only the lowest levels of the ship were flickering. Starscream understood immediately. _It’s trying to free its projection, but keeping the power to the bridge stable to avoid cutting off its link to this ship._ That was sweet confirmation that his plan would work, assuming he could find a way to cut the power.

Starscream rounded the last corner with caution, but stopped short of barging into the room. _Remember there are two of them_ , he warned himself. When he peeked into the room, the angel was where he had left it, including its reflection.

“You two having a good time in there?” Starscream called merrily, his hands on his hips. “I know you are up to something — but you can forget it. I’ve defeated you before and I’ll do it again. I want someone dead and you are going to help me whether you like it or not!”

Loud displays of confidence was Starscream’s way of hiding his growing fear, which seemed justified when the ship’s lights flickered again and the weeping angel had covered its face with both hands. But the horrible thing was that _the reflection hadn’t_ and it was glaring straight at him.

 _They are free_ , Starscream realized, taking an involuntary step back. He knew that meant only his stare was keeping the two of them from attacking him. They were only non-existent until he blinked, a fact which had his optics feeling all twitchy already. Amazing how that worked; as soon as you couldn’t blink it was the only thing you wanted to do.

Starscream stared and his hands rose towards his face. He acutely felt the delicate mechanisms at the corner of his optics. Not for the first time did he consider tearing them out — but the pain would be instant and memorable and he wasn’t keen. His hands dropped to his sides.

There was also the little issue that in actuality there were _three_ weeping angels menacing him; the one on the ghost ship, the digital projection, and now the reflection of that projection. The last was clearly its own entity, moving independent of the projection. This suggested that these angels might be the equivalent of children; eventually they would gain enough mass to take on stone forms.

It also hinted of darker things.

A single weeping angel, projected as a recording across all digital screens planet-wide might mean a technologically advanced population wiped out within a matter of days. All well and good — a quick way to kill off a troublesome species while leaving resources untouched — except good-fragging-luck trying to take over a weeping angel infested planet without facing the same fate. The whole business was nothing short of a complete catastrophe.

 _Things are getting out of hand…_ and Starscream did the only thing he could. He took aim at the vid-screen and fired. That shattered the delicate device, ending the third weeping angel’s life before it even began.

“One down,” Starscream said nastily, pointing his otherwise useless weapon at the remaining angel. “And you’re next.”

The weeping angel must not have liked that. The lights cut out again, causing Starscream to yelp and stumble back, shooting frantically at the spot he’d last seen the monster. But when the light returned he couldn’t see the angel.

It was gone.

Instantly panicked, Starscream threw himself to the side. He knew that if he couldn’t see the angel that meant it was moving. He activated his thrusters and did a full loop-de-loop, his wounded side burning for protest. He searched the room to lock the monster back in place, but the room was empty.

Starscream landed with a huff, his mostly useless blaster at the ready. “Where are you?” he demanded, and of course there was no reply. Then he activated his shoulder-mounted searchlights and mentally berated himself for not thinking of it earlier.

 _All this craziness is making me clumsy_ , and Starscream scowled. “I hate these things” which was something he already knew, but hadn’t really admitted to himself. _I really do. That doctor is right. They can’t be allowed into our reality to propagate themselves._

And to that end, Starscream shut down his little mirror program. That would keep the weeping angel from doing anything rash that might cause more of them to appear and further endanger his efforts to murder that special someone in his life.

“Going to keep this handy, though,” Starscream muttered, then felt a warm tickle down his thigh-plating. He glanced down to see that his side-patch was leaking; a thin stream of his blood was racing down his leg. Something to worry about later.

Starscream then peered at the empty space that was the room and the little bit of corridor he could see beyond it. His fingers stroked his blaster’s trigger.

Feeling like a mouse and hating it, Starscream nonetheless crept to the door and peeked out. His gaze caught the weeping angel further down the corridor. It was facing away from him, heading toward some unknown destination. Whatever it was up to, he knew it couldn’t be good.

“Wait, where are you going?” Starscream shouted and at first he couldn’t figure out why it wasn’t coming after him. "I didn't give you permission to leave!" He grew more worried the further away it strayed. He started after it, and then smiled triumphantly when the lights flickered and his shoulder searchlights let him hold the weeping angel in place.

“There’s no escape from me,” Starscream said grandly, and then something curiously ugly happened. He felt the strangest sensation; the feeling that photons sucked into a black hole might experience. It made him instantly queasy. His conclusion was as obvious as it was terrifying; the ship was a machine — and he was a type of machine — and so the angels could draw power from his circuitry like it was doing to the ship. Even worse, when the overhead lights flickered again, so did his biolights and especially his search-lights.

The corridor was plunged into momentary darkness and Starscream gasped again, his own energy levels affected. And when the light came back on the weeping angel was even further away. It was reaching out towards an innocuous bay door; as if it intended to pass through and go inside. It was then that Starscream realized where they were.

_Stasis pods._

_It’s going to kill my trine_ and Starscream made a strangled noise. _It must have sensed them somehow!_

Starscream could see his own ruin coming faster and faster. The weeping angel was only growing more effective as time passed. Even he could see the fire he was playing with was becoming an inferno. He recognized his growing peril even as he held the angel captive in his gaze.

Starscream’s mind raced. The cynical scientist in him noted that since this was technically a new weeping angel it might need to feed to develop enough mass to separate from its “parent” entity, to become a lonely assassin in its own right.

Holding the weeping angel in place with his eyes — the only thing keeping the vicious thing from his unconscious trine — Starscream slapped his arm panel and typed in the codes that would force the stasis pods to open in an emergency. Thinking fast, he overloaded his trine’s stasis pods. That delivered to Skywarp and Thundercracker a painful shock that would bring them around that much faster.

Shock delivered, Starscream opened an audio-only line to the screens inside the stasis pods. “Get out, get out of there!” he shrieked.

“Starscream?”

Thundercracker fell out of his stasis pod, landing on his face with a gasp. Skywarp stood straight up, took one step and fell flat on his back. His foot was sticking up comically; the result of a desperate attempt at movement when his circuits weren’t ready for it.

Dirge and Thrust had yet to move.

“What about the others?” Thundercracker groaned, crawling towards Skywarp. He brought his internal weapon systems online as he did so, fumbling for his blaster. The more he forced himself to move, the more coordinated his movements became.

Starscream didn’t care about the others. At least, not in that moment. There were only two sparks that he simply couldn’t live without and his next order proved it.

“SKYWARP — GET YOURSELF AND THUNDERS OUT OF THERE **NOW**!”

Skywarp grunted a quick “yep” and grabbed Thundercracker’s wing. He squinted and they vanished with an explosion of light, with only seconds to spare.

The lights went out again and Starscream, ignoring the queasy power suck, unloaded his blaster at the spot he’d last seen the weeping angel. In the flicker-flash of dark and light and blaster fire he saw the angel move in fits and starts — determined to reach the stasis pods.

Starscream impeded its progress as best he could but finally the weeping angel vanished through the bay doors and into the stasis room proper. He started to chase after it, then skidded to a stop. He well remembered what had happened the last time he’d turned a corner blind. He clapped a hand back to his side and his fingers felt sticky.

Starscream’s fuel pump skipped a beat and his tanks bottomed out. How far did this power drain go? How fast could the monster drain him? Could it suck him low enough to drop him into stasis? Would it even do so, knowing it couldn’t torment him after he was off-line? These were dangerous questions without definite answers and so he took a wary step back.

“Starscream, what’s happening?!” Thundercracker demanded. “Are you alright? Are we under attack?”

Starscream snapped in reply “well, obviously!” and then tapped his arm panel. He brought up a lifescan map of the ship, which showed five green dots; his entire crew plus himself. He stared at the panel, stared at those green dots, and his spark ached in his chest. Beyond his need to protect his own life, there was that other little problem. The problem in the picture the doctor had shown him; the consequences of failure that apparently two somebodies needed to pay.

_It’s them or me._

“Who’s attacking?!” Thundercracker demanded, his words still slurred from his stasis nap. “Is it the Wreckers?” and in the background could be heard the workings of various keypads. “I’m scanning the ship but I can’t pinpoint the Autobot’s location — we can’t let that diplomat get away!”

_Diplomat?_

_They still think we are on our original mission_ , Starscream realized, hesitating. It was perfectly reasonable of them to assume the Autobots had sent a team to waylay them. His contingent was only to be roused when the original target was within reach.

“Don’t do any visual scans of the ship,” Starscream demanded, not want any frag-ups with images of stone statues murdering his poor ignorant brothers through their vid-screens. His spark steadied within him as they seemed somewhat safe, and so he ignored their confused questions.

Starscream stared down at his arm panel instead. There were still five green dots, but Dirge and Thrust were not safe. An uncharacteristically strong cord of guilt wormed its way out from his spark, but he dismissed it. _This is supposed to happen because it did happen. It’s not really my fault._

The moments strained past.

 _It must be playing with them like it plays with me_ , and Starscream stared down at those imperiled green dots, his arm shaking. _Though they won’t make good prey at the moment._ He hadn’t shocked them, so they were still waking up. _They likely won’t even realize the danger._ It took a long drawn out interaction with the thing before a hint of the true horror was revealed. He was counting on that for Megs, but it made waiting for the inevitable just agonizing—

—and when it happened, it was fast. Starscream gasped aloud when first one green dot vanished, and then the next, nearly simultaneously. He guessed the weeping angel had waited until they noticed it standing over them and then pounced.

 _At least it was probably painless,_ Starscream consoled himself. _And they haven’t really died. They are just stuck in the past living out their new lives —_ and he couldn’t finish the thought because you can only lie to yourself for so long. He damn well knew they were going to flee from the predacon packs and then get roasted alive by a gamma burst while hiding in a cave, huddled together for comfort in hopes of a rescue that never came.

Starscream shuddered and closed his eyes, momentarily overwhelmed with what he’d just done, even as Thundercracker shouted over his comms demanding to know what the frag was going on. Fortunately — very fortunately — such moments passed quickly.

Starscream opened his optics and the weeping angel was right up in his face. The thing looked positively smug. It could have killed him right then, but it didn’t. It had waited for him to open his eyes. It wanted him to know what it had done; its expression told the whole story.

“Okay,” whispered Starscream, his optics hot and his fingers clenched, the bloody-flecks over its body making his own blood boil.

This was the final moment. He would either triumph or die a dismal failure. He steeled himself and reached for the corners of his optics with his fingers. “You are my weapon to do with as I please and right now I want you stone cold dead,” and then he tore along the corners of his optics. 'Don't blink,' and now he wasn't going to. He wasn’t playing any games and that was why he was going to win.

The weeping angel stood resolute.

“Skywarp,” Starscream snarled, blood dripping down the corners of his optics. “Warp down to the engine room **right now** and hug the core.”

Starscream glared at the angel with all his might, keeping it in place as best he could, even knowing that ultimately it was holding the upper hand in their little standoff. The angel knew it too, and he was certain that was why he was still alive. It was so damned arrogant, so confidant in its own abilities.

Starscream’s optics narrowed hatefully. _Keep playing with me and I’ll show you why I am the better monster. Your little games are going to cost you dearly,_ but before he could finish his thought the queasy feeling was back.

The lights, both his lights and the ship’s, flickered and forced the darkness once again. In the returning light the weeping angel was smiling at him, ever so brightly. The fingers of its right hand were curled around something, but within the cage of its fingers seemed only empty space.

“What the ever-lovin’ frag?”

“I’m coming down there!”

Starscream repeated his order, in that specific tone of voice that warned them the enemy was here, the enemy _was listening_ , and to do what he said without question right fragging—

The lights went out again and suddenly Starscream was kneeling on the floor with a shocked cry. His wounded side was ripped back open, the bloody dripping patch dangling from the weeping angel’s stone fingers. Needle teeth extruded as hellish stone eyes peered deep into bleeding optics.

Starscream shrieked.

Skywarp heard everything he needed to from that sound. He warped down to the core’s housing, wrapped himself around the engine core, took a deep breath, and disappeared with a _wharp_. The engine core went with him, blinking out and then blinking back in the fraction of an instant.

Just as Starscream hoped, the wrathful image of the weeping angel shuddered — did he imagine that its expression went from vengeful to terrified? — and then dissolved away, its connection to its parent lost in dreadful finality.

Starscream fell back onto his aft, triumphant once again. He whispered “told you I was the better monster” but his whole frame was shaking. His ruin retreated back to the shadows, but it wasn’t gone completely. It was still waiting aboard the ghost ship, stone wings spread, eternal eyes wild with rage for the loss of its children.

Skywarp shouted, “It’s done! Now what the frag did I just do?!” into their shared comms, even as the ship’s power restored and all the flickering stopped. This was right around the time that the ship’s warning klaxons sounded, helpfully informing them that the ship had experienced a major unexpected power outage and maaaaybe someone should check into that. Just a thought, definitely not a sissy warning screen or heaven forbid, any sort of judgment on the state of things.

“Just tell me where to go and who to shoot!” Skywarp demanded, his optics blazing and all weapons live. He was still wobbly on his feet, but his blaster was hot and his spark was keen.

“I’m still not seeing any Autobot signatures?” and Thundercracker sounded dubious over the complete lack of legitimate targets. “We must have some sort of sensor malfunction. I’m not seeing Dirge or Thrust’s either. It looks like it’s just the three of us.”

“It’s not a malfunction. Dirge and Thrust are dead — completely vanished without a trace,” Starscream interrupted, giving his shocked trine the bad news with a minimum of softness. “We lost them to a novel weapon during the attack, which was not from the Autobots. I’ve banished the aliens off the ship and they are fleeing, and good riddance. The ship is clear. Now stand down and would someone fragging please shut off those damn klaxons!”

“Dirge and Thrust... holy frag!” said Skywarp, his excitement fading away into something a little more morose. He walked over to the appropriate panel and the ship-wide warning ended abruptly. Dumping himself into the nearest chair, he dropped his head into his hands and mumbled, “Dirge can’t be gone — he still owes me ten credits.”

“Starscream, the power failures have resolved themselves,” Thundercracker reported dutifully, and then doubt crept into his voice. “I am trying to track the alien ship, but nothing is showing up on my scanners.”

 _It begins_ , and Starscream sighed.

As much as his side pained him, Starscream couldn’t help but slump in place. His relief was so strong that he felt weak. Or maybe that was the fluid loss. He looked down to see that he was sitting in a mess of his own making; a potent mixture of blood and waste fluid. Adding to the forlorn puddle was drops of blood from his eyes, making it seem like he was weeping.

 _I can’t do this anymore_ , Starscream realized, his spark completely guttered. And yet, he knew he’d already gone too far. He couldn’t stop now. Not after having sacrificed, err, not after Dirge and Thrust had _sacrificed themselves_ so that he could take command and pave the way to paradise.

“What sort of aliens were they?” asked Thundercracker, and a few moments later he added, “And why are we so far off course?”

Skywarp sat up straight in a hurry. “Wait — what about the diplomat? Tell me he didn’t get away? Screamer, what the frag, seriously?!”

And then Starscream’s arm panel lit up brightly; a high-level call directly to his personal number. Because apparently Megatron was having trouble reaching them through normal communication lines, but still wanted his update.

Right fragging now.


	7. Salacious Lies

Starscream glared down at his arm panel.

The ID tag left nothing to the imagination. With a pained look Starscream groaned “oh primus not him, not now” but his panel continued to blink and could not be ignored. He took a deep breath and then opened the comm. His circuits were still buzzing, but he knew there was no delaying this briefing. He hoped that the fact he looked like slag wormed over might be to his advantage.

“Lord Megatron,” said Starscream, glaring into the mini-screen that popped up from his arm panel. He affected a disinterested, but still mostly respectful expression. He could hear the _clunk-clunk-clunk_ of an approaching mech and realized that Thundercracker was making good on his threat to ‘come down there’ and check on him.

_I don't want him hearing something I can't explain away later. Best get this over with as fast as possible._

“Starscream. I was expecting your report—” but Megatron paused mid-criticism, taken aback. He took in Starscream’s shocking appearance; his dim colors, his pale plating, his torn and bloody side, but especially his still-bleeding optics. “—are you alright?” he interrupted himself.

“Yes, fine, glorious! I tracked down and overtook the _Relentless Pursuit_ ,” Starscream reported forcefully, making up a narrative as he went. He spoke hard and fast while taking care to stick to the facts as close as possible. _The best lies contain strands of truth._ “My contingent and I were preparing to board the ship when the Bra’xis attacked. They were seeking to reclaim their weapon.”

Starscream smiled viciously through gritted teeth. “The alien scum were not successful. We have driven them off — though it took some effort."

Megatron quirked an optic. “I’m surprised they gave you so much trouble.”

“They were desperate,” Starscream countered, well aware why Megatron would question that. He then glared down at his bloodied hands. “This weapon had better be worth the trouble.” He resisted the urge to look behind him when the footsteps hesitated and then stopped. He gestured behind his back instead for his trine brother to wait.

Megatron considered that and then chose to accept his story without further comment. “I want an open channel when you board—”

“Absolutely not,” Starscream said with sudden ferocity. “I don’t need you venting down my neck while I’m working. I will contact you once I have the weapon in hand.”

 _Just go away_ , thought Starscream with utmost frustration. He could feel optics on the back of his neck. _I can't kill you under these conditions! I need to deal with my trine first. They have questions and they need answers. At least I have to ensure they won’t work against me. I have to be sure, whatever happens, that they stay safe from the weeping angel._

“Hmm,” Megatron murmured, his optics speculative. But once again he didn’t press the issue. It seemed he decided the demand was not unreasonable. “Keep me apprised.”

“Of course,” Starscream replied with a charming grin, which was far less charming then usual thanks to the blood still leaking from his optics.

“Oh, and Starscream — get yourself looked after. You look terrible.” Then Megatron gave him another one of _those_ looks, the ones that made Starscream feel all nervous and fluttery inside, and then cut the line. He let out his breath — he hadn’t realized he was holding it — and relaxed as the mini-screen faded away.

_Another successfully deployed delaying tactic. Close calls aside, this is going so damned well. I suppose it helps that it’s been so many vorns since my last takeover attempt. I imagine Megatron must be relieved I am finally making a move against him._

_And that’s another danger here, isn’t it?_

Starscream took another breath, even as he heard his brother heading towards him again. _If I fail, Megatron is going to drag me back to his ship by my wings. That’s why he’s being so very accommodating, really. It’s been so long since he’s had to 'discipline’ me he’s getting antsy. I know how much he enjoys it when… and then I can expect…_ but his mind shied away from that possibility. _This time is going to be different._

Starscream recognized the polite but insistent sound of Thundercracker loudly clearing his ventilation systems.

"Starscream?"

Starscream found himself basking in that wonderful sound; his name spoken in a differential way by someone he was actually happy to see. It was so good to have his trine brothers to boss around again; he’d been too long without them.

Then Starscream glanced over his shoulder and said archly, "Well, you heard Megs — help me up."

Thundercracker didn’t need to be told twice. He hurried over and knelt next to Starscream, but instead of extending his hand as Starscream expected, TC scooped him up and held him close instead. “You look terrible.”

“It’s the optics, isn’t it?” said Starscream wanly. He could still feel a warm tickle down the sides of his face, though the flow was slowing. His pale frame matched his dim optic shine. “That was one hell of a fight.”

“I would say so,” and Thundercracker turned and strode back the way he’d came. He marched towards the medbay where a quality energon infusion was waiting. He kept all further comments to himself, but his hold was far more a hug than anything else.

_So glad to have you back._

Starscream was so mentally drained that not speaking was becoming an effort. He leaned closer. “Hey,” he whispered, against his better judgment. “Whatever happens next, just, trust me for once in your life, would you?”

Thundercracker met his pale optics with equal measures of concern and caution. “How about you just tell me what’s going on and not bother with any secrets?”

No, that wouldn’t do. _Thundercracker might talk me out of all this_ , and for Starscream, that was a very real possibility. It was hard to stand against the voice of reason that was Thundercracker. But there was so much that could go wrong in the next few breems that he knew Thundercracker needed to be warned, somehow.

Starscream flinched, and then whispered the truth as much as he dared. “Someone’s been contacting me, about our mission. No, don’t ask any questions. Just listen. That contact showed me something — this.”

Thundercracker received a data burst from Starscream and peered at it. He blinked at the image of the two entwined frames, apparently from some prehistoric museum. Their faces were too worn away to identify, but there was something unnervingly familiar about them. “Star, what is this?”

“A warning,” Starscream said with wide optics. “I think I handled it. I think things are finally going to go my way. To the bold goes victory. But if it doesn't — I need you to come find me. I am sure that the contact — a humanoid calling himself ‘the doctor’ — knows how to help me.”

“I don’t understand,” Thundercracker protested, absolutely bewildered by the conversation. He hugged Starscream closer, worried for how delusional his brother was sounding. “You aren't making any sense because you've lost a lot of blood. Just relax… we are almost to the medbay.”

 _It doesn’t matter that he doesn’t understand_ , Starscream thought, having said what he needed to. _If things go wrong he will remember tonight._ He sighed then and dropped his head on TC’s shoulder. By the time they reached the medbay he was openly hugging TC right back. The last thing he heard when he slipped off into a short recharge cycle was Thundercracker giving Skywarp an update on his condition.

“—he’s out of it, but a few hours in the CR chamber will help. He should be back to normal when he wakes up.”

“Thank frag, ‘cause he’s got some ‘splaining to do!”

***

Skywarp and Thundercracker stood at attention in the main briefing room.

They were waiting for Starscream to explain to them why they weren’t currently on route to brutally murder the Autobot diplomat as assigned, and why they were currently floating an unusually far — perhaps even neurotically far — distance from the ghost ship that was the Terrorcon’s pride and joy. But most importantly, why, oh why, were Dirge and Thrust suddenly missing?

“Dead,” Starscream corrected them again. “Unfortunate but true.”

“That’s bad,’ said Skywarp.

“Forget them. They're lost to us, but we have no time to mourn them. We have a new mission,” Starscream informed them, hands on his hips — the very picture of confidence. “Megatron himself has ordered us to escort the Terrorcons back to Decepticon territory. They had procured a devious new weapon, a sort of ‘time gun’ taken from a Bra’xis warship. Megatron has repurposed it to serve The Cause, but the Bra’xis gave chase and attacked shortly after our rendezvous with the Terrorcon’s ship.”

“They wanted their time gun back,” and Thundercracker nodded, following along carefully. “Too bad for them. It belongs to the Decepticons now.”

Starscream took care to keep as close to the truth as possible. Under normal circumstances Thundercracker's attention to detail and unrelenting common sense was a valuable asset. This was not one of those times.

“Are we really calling it ‘the time gun’ because that is the stupidest name ever,” Skywarp demanded, always quick to focus on the important things.

Thundercracker hushed his trine brother and asked, “Does it really work?”

“It really does,” Starscream assured them, his optics dark with some deep upset. “It’s the most dangerous hand-held weapon in existence. It’s sure to turn the tide against the Autobots.”

“What you told me yesterday,” Thundercracker said, his optics going wide. He was speaking of the image Starscream had shared with him, but Starscream just shook his helm and made a gesture for ‘leave it’ because it didn’t really matter anymore. He already regretted that lapse of judgment. Especially since that little detail was already handled, thanks to the loss of Dirge and Thrust.

“That’s good!” said Skywarp asked excitedly, adding “so where is it?” while glancing around the briefing room to try and spot it. He was a certified gun-nut and adored guns of all shapes and sizes. As such, he was keen to get his hot little hands on such a sweet-ass pew pew-er.

“Unfortunately the Terrorcons failed to protect it,” Starscream answered, scowling theatrically. “I was forced to storm their ship after the Bra’xis reclaimed the weapon and used it against them.”

“That’s bad,” said Skywarp.

Thundercracker looked startled. “The Terrorcons are—”

“—also very dead,” Starscream assured him. “The time gun can send you back to any point in time and the Bra’xis sent them so far back that they died even before any of our kind ever existed.”

“That’s bad,” said Skywarp.

Thundercracker frowned, the gears in his processer already starting to rip holes in Starscream’s story. He must not have been close enough to overhear the conversation with Megatron or he’d be really protesting, but the narrative was off enough that he was already unravelling it. He opened his mouth to ask another question, but Starscream cut him off.

“I was able to kill the marauding Bra’xis aboard the Terrorcon’s ship,” Starscream said hurriedly, over Skywarp’s exclaiming “that’s good!” and then added, “But in the meantime they had already killed the Terrorcons.”

“—that’s bad.”

Starscream lunged forward and grabbed Skywarp by the throat, his eyes blazing. “Whatever ridiculous thing it is that you are quoting — you are going to stop _right now_."

“Sure,” said Skywarp, his optics glinting merrily. “So you killed the Bra’xis dead and reclaimed the time gun. So where is it?”

“Wait, wait,” Thundercracker interrupted, still trying to make sense of everything. “Back up. Why did you storm the Terrorcon’s ship alone? Why didn’t you bring us out of stasis?"

Starscream scoffed.

“I _was_ about to bring you out of stasis when the Bra’xis attacked. There just wasn’t time. They killed the Terrorcons, but through my superior fighting skills, I reclaimed the weapon. They followed me back to our ship, but were no match for my _sheer genius_. I used the engine core to defeat them and single-handedly chased them away.”

Thundercracker’s wings began to droop. “But that’s… not what happened,” and his voice grew firmer when he finished, “there was no alien ship.”

“Starscream,” insisted Skywarp, his empty hands wringing, “where is the sweet-ass time gun?”

Starscream cleared his throat. “I left it on the Terrorcon’s ship, of course,” and he delivered that line so reasonably that the follow up statement seemed only natural. “I felt it was too dangerous to handle without a mech of greater technical expertise on site to supervise.”

At this point Thundercracker’s lip components began to quirk. “So the Bra’xis — an organic species — was able to figure out this time gun with no problems, but _you_ — an accomplished scientist — left it sitting on the Terrorcon’s ship completely unguarded because you felt it was too dangerous to handle?”

“I don’t like your tone,” Starscream said, a dangerous glint in his eyes.

Thundercracker barrelled onward, “You said you left the time gun on the Terrorcon’s ship — but why would the Bra’xis leave it there and follow you back to our ship instead of reclaiming it?” His voice was growing tetchy.

Starscream snorted and then glared at his brothers. “Isn’t it obvious? I reclaimed the weapon and then hid it from them. You better watch yourself — you know I don’t appreciate being questioned by my own trine.”

Now even Skywarp had clued in that something was off. No prizes awarded for figuring out the whys and whyfors. He mumbled something unintelligible, something to the tune of “oh frag please not this again” and Thundercracker straightened for the warning.

“Megatron knew I was the only one who could successfully complete this mission,” Starscream added, his optics half-lidded. “That’s why he sent me — and me alone — to handle this matter.” He strode towards the door, intending to head back to the bridge, effectively dismissing them as if the matter was settled as simply as that. 

Thundercracker and Skywarp traded glances.

“That’s… certainly understandable,” Thundercracker said carefully as he followed Starscream out into the hall, with Skywarp hot on his heels. They walked together for a few paces and then Thundercracker asked, “So… what exactly happened to Dirge and Thrust, again?”

**Many, many lies later…**

“—and that’s why the mission logs were deleted.”

Thundercracker, now standing at the bridge's tactical display, stared down at the panel. He eyed the empty log where their new mission data should be. Everything about the mission was missing, which left them completely in the dark for what Megatron might have actually intended or ordered. His lips tightened into a thin line.

“You, uh, sure about all that, Starscream?” Skywarp asked, while staring accusingly at the wall.

And there it was.

Starscream bristled while facing down — once again — the indisputable proof that _his own trine_ valued Megatron’s leadership more than they valued him.

“Thundercracker,” Starscream demanded archly, “contact our Great Leader and inform him I have defeated our enemies and have secured the weapon.”

“That was hella fast,” Skywarp mumbled with drooping wings.

“Sure,” Thundercracker said, but otherwise didn’t move, hands resting on his hips. “Should I let him know you are bringing the time gun onboard so we can all return triumphantly to Decepticon space?”

“No,” Starscream said, “Megatron should meet us here… we will need his help to transfer the weapon to our ship. It’s far too dangerous for simpler minds to trifle with.”

Thundercracker started tapping at the keypad, sending a short, concise message to Megatron as ordered. His wings were tense and his optics narrowed. “Done,” and then he slapped both palms down on the panel, his optics blazing. “I also let him know these were _your_ specific orders.”

Skywarp looked sharply at Thundercracker. “You mean He’s coming?”

“Yes,” Thundercracker said, eyes never leaving Starscream’s face. “Megatron says he _understands_ and that he’s on his way.”

Starscream bared razor-sharp denta at them both. “So _nice_ to know I can always count on you two when it really matters.”

Thundercracker shook his helm. “Starscream—”

“I hereby order you to observe radio silence,” Starscream said ferociously, turning away and heading towards the lift. His wings trailed him, high and proud. “Maintain your distance from the _Relentless Pursuit_ until you hear from me and under no circumstances are you to open any sort of visual surveillance.”

“Starscream, please—”

Starscream glanced over his shoulder. “And I mean that last order. I have shut out and locked down those systems for a reason. If I catch you circumventing them, may heaven help you.”

“Fine, whatever. But I’m going with you,” Skywarp insisted and then rolled his optics when Starscream refused. He groaned and clasped his helm with both hands when Starscream ordered him to stay behind with TC and defend the ship from further Bra’xis attacks.

“You are going on your own, then?” Thundercracker asked, as nettled as Skywarp to be left out of the mission and the acclaim of bringing Megatron a weapon of such calibre. Not only was Starscream planning the universe’s most obvious assassination attempt, but he only thinking of his own benefit. He was coldly stiffing them of the considerable rewards for completing such a critical mission. Everything about this plan of Starscream's sucked.

Starscream glared at them both, unwilling to put his ambitious plans in jeopardy. “I defeated the attacking Bra’xis and secured the weapon on my own — why wouldn’t I take full credit?” He knew he was being unfair, but it was the only way to get what he wanted.

And there was that little matter of the weeping angel; quite possibly the most dangerous monster he’d ever had the misfortune (and fortune?) to encounter. _I am keeping you both safe, whether you like it or not. You will understand once this is over and you’ll appreciate all the risks I am taking for you two._

 _I will make this up to you later_ , Starscream promised them. This time he really meant it. All those close shaves had reminded him how important they were to him, even if they didn’t believe in him. _Well, they will believe by the end of this cycle._ They would get the best of everything as soon as he was Leader of the Decepticons. _If only they could see that._

Skywarp snorted. “All on your own? What about Dirge and Thrust? I thought you said they fought bravely. And what about my core hug? That was nothing?”

“They don’t matter. They’ve vanished for good. Lost in deep time — dead like the Terrorcons,” Starscream said, callously. “But don’t worry. I will make sure the Bra’xis pay dearly for what they’ve done. Our comrades _will_ be avenged.”

“This is all on your head,” Thundercracker warned, having been through this sort of back-handed treachery before. He refused to put his helm on the line for Starscream, not after having been thrown under the bus so many times before. He knew what was waiting for Starscream on the other side of a failed regime change, and he also knew what lengths Starscream would go to try and lessen his ‘punishment’ as Megatron liked called it.

Skywarp crossed his arms over his chest.

“How well I know,” said Starscream while glowering back at them. “And so will the rewards, when I receive all that is due to me. But I won’t abandon _you_ like you’ve abandoned _me_ ,” and he sounded hurt and reproachful at the last, but finished strong, “We will all take our rightful places as rulers of Cybertron — when I return triumphant.”

And that was where Starscream left them as he sought to take his fate into his own hands. He knew they would come around as soon as they learned he had taken the throne. Then they would see him as he saw himself; destined for greatness.

***

Starscream floated outside the _Relentless Pursuit_.

His outer plating was starting to freeze, but the thick layer of wax he’d applied before leaving meant he could ignore the discomfort for a while. And ignore his discomfort he did, for quite some time while awaiting the confirmation of what he already knew.

Some time later, his arm panel pinged as expected. It advised him that Megatron was on his way, aboard and commanding a small but powerful shuttle. He wasn’t even hiding his position. Starscream could watch its progress if he wished.

But Starscream had more frightening things to ponder. _I will have to time this carefully… not give my weapon enough time to get the upper hand. As soon as Megatron arrives in his shuttle I’ll go inside and pin that monster down._

That was the part that was giving Starscream the surges. He stared at the waiting entrance hatch, still locked tight during his first tussle with the weeping angel. He didn’t dare try and locate it visually and it didn’t otherwise show up on any scans, because while it wasn’t being observed he was certain it was some form of malevolent energy. It hated his every bolt and wire and somewhere on that ship it was waiting for him.

“I can do this,” Starscream said aloud, trying to calm his buzzing circuits. “The risk is worth it.”

And then, unbidden, Starscream remembered the two entwined forms from the history vid and the two mechs who’d paid the price for his victory. That was a close call, but he wasn’t so foolish as to think that meant he was safe. He shivered.

_I can do this._

***

Skywarp and Thundercracker watched as Starscream jetted out the _Deft Blade’s_ primary hatch and out into deep space. They saw his contrails fade as he headed towards the ghost ship, now so far away to be barely a speck on the screen.

“You believe this?” asked Skywarp, though it was more of a rhetorical question; they both very much believed in Starscream’s unholy ambitions. “He’s doing it _again_.”

“Did he ever stop?” and Thundercracker sat down in the command chair, gripping the chair’s arms with both fists. His helm sank down and eyes closed as he mentally cursed his trine leader’s boundless selfishness.

Skywarp plopped his aft down at Tactical and peered down at the screen. He could see his trine leader as a green dot on his display. “Starscream’s just hanging out in space — hasn’t even gone inside yet.”

Thundercracker didn’t answer.

“So when are we going to tell Megs about Dirge and Thrust?” Skywarp asked as the last of Starscream’s jet trails faded away. “There’s too few of us now — we’re down the Terrorcons _and_ two seekers — he’s going to flip a fraggin’ gasket.”

“Starscream can tell him,” Thundercracker answered, but his wings drooped. It was just as likely that Starscream would blame _them_ for the loss. That sort of thing had happened before. “Not looking forward to that conversation,” he confessed.

Skywarp was thinking the same and kicked his console in reply.

Time passed and then Skywarp announced that Megatron’s ship had arrived. They watched it come out of warp and then glide to a standstill a short distance from the ghost ship. The sheer speed at which he’d arrived suggested he’d already been on his way, likely from the moment his previous call with his Second had ended.

Skywarp frowned down at his panel. “Starscream has gone inside.”

Thundercracker looked up towards the vid-screen. “And Megatron?” he asked, eyeing the faint speck that was the ghost ship onscreen.

“Megs has left his shuttle — and just sent it away, outside the sector. What do you want to bet that means he plans on returning with us?” Skywarp said, declaring the obvious conclusion to their previous conversation. “We fragged up and now he’s got an excuse to test out his new weapon.”

“Megatron won’t do that,” Thundercracker said, quietly. “Too much of a risk. If we’re lucky we’ll eat his fists, otherwise its scut work until we get back to base.”

Skywarp crossed his arms and propped a foot up on the console to wait for the inevitable. “Fraggin’ hell,” he grumbled and then fell quiet.

Time seemed to crawl.

“You know we won’t get to see him for months after this,” Skywarp said, breaking the quiet.

“I know,” Thundercracker muttered.

Skywarp continued, his voice getting harsher with every word, “and when we do see him, it will be at Megatron’s feet, or worse. Probably worse — so much worse — because it’s been vorns.”

Thundercracker just covered his face with his hand and groaned. “ _I know_.”

For a long time after the only sound was the beeps and clicks of the _Deft Blade’s_ various tactical and communications consoles. Adding to that was the occasional metal-clank-ity fidgeting of two anxious jets as they waited for resolution of this oh-so-Decepticon power play.

The wait was agonizing, but at no point did either seeker consider intervening on behalf of the two combatants. One of them was going to win and one of them was going to lose. The strong survived, the weak perished, and whatever the outcome the Decepticons as a whole would be better off — more ferocious — for the battle waged to its conclusion. This was what it meant to be a Decepticon.

Also, Megatron hated getting interrupted while pitting himself against whatever creative scenario Starscream had dreamt up for him. He liked to keep his concentration and wouldn’t appreciate any help from them. There was nothing to do but wait.

Skywarp finally broke the silence. “Think Screamer’s down yet?”

“We wait until one of them contacts us,” Thundercracker answered, which was always the safest option. Though at this point he found himself perilously close to openly fretting. “He’s going to get himself killed.”

“Pfft,” Skywarp said, shaking his helm. “Megatron loves slapping Screamer’s aft around waaaaay too much to actually deactivate him.”

“That only goes so far,” Thundercracker said, his fingers twisting, openly fretting. Then his arm panel chirped. He blinked at the ID tag of the mech contacting him. Then he leapt to his feet and accepted the comm.

“—Dirge, is that you?!”

Skywarp’s wings perked up and he shouted “we thought you idiots were fragged!” loud enough to be picked up by Thundercracker’s comms. Then he blinked and rounded on Thundercracker. “Did any of us actually check?”

“Where are you?” demanded Thundercracker, waving Skywarp off. He turned in place for excitement and relief. “I need a full report. We were told you were attacked by the Bra’xis — that they used their time weapon against you. We were told you vanished.”

“No, nothing like that,” said Dirge, his voice eerily calm. “I’m down in the cargo bay with… with… _Thrust_.” He stumbled over the name, as if the Cybertronian glyphs were giving him some trouble.

Thundercracker and Skywarp bristled instantly. Thundercracker felt the plating on the back of his neck rise. He gestured ‘go check it out’ at Skywarp, trusting his brother from another batcher to handle any nasty Bra’xis traps.

Skywarp gave him a ‘thumbs up’ and then vanished in a flash of light.

“Dirge — what happened to you?” said Thundercracker, his voice harsh.

“The red and white one,” Dirge asked, “what is his name?”

“What do you mean?” and Thundercracker scowled down at his arm panel, mouthing ‘what sort of stupid agent are you’ and then asked the obvious, “How do you not know your commanding officer’s designation?”

“I know his name,” said Dirge with the same calm tone, “but I won’t say it. I won’t betray my own.”

Thundercracker stared at his arm panel. “You aren’t making any sense.”

“I’m sorry sir,” Dirge said, a hint of desperation in his voice, “but it won’t stop asking and I feel like I can’t hold out much longer. It would very much like to know — to know his name.”

“It’s Starscream,” Thundercracker answered easily. He saw no harm in answering whatever sick-brained Bra’xis agent had commandeered Dirge’s comms line and was mimicking Dirge’s voice. “And that’s Air Commander Starscream to you. Try to remember it when we _tear you apart_ for what you did to Dirge and Thrust.”

“Thank you,” Dirge replied, sounding relieved and then asked casually, “Do you know if he has any family — any dear friends?”

Thundercracker, momentarily taken aback, fell silent.

Dirge waited patiently for an answer, but when there was none forthcoming he spoke again. “Your friends — me and Thrust — it wants to know what you think it did to them?”

Thundercracker cocked his helm warily — now sick of the conversation. “You Bra’xis scum shot them with the time weapon.”

“No, no, it wasn’t anything like that,” Dirge assured him. “The weeping angel murdered me.”

It was an odd thing to say, but Thundercracker had heard enough. “Frag you,” he said hatefully to the brazen Bra’xis agent, his spark seething. “We’ll be seeing you real soon” and then he shut down the comm line.

Skywarp reappeared in a flash, looking shaken. “Come on,” he said, grabbing a startled Thundercracker. “You need to see this.” They both vanished with a _wharp_ and then reappeared in the doorway to the cargo bay, the flash of teleportation momentarily blinding them both.

“Look,” said Skywarp, pointing towards two huddled shapes.

And there they were — both Dirge and Thrust — lying in a congealed and drying pool of their own internal fluids. There was no mystery to solve here; everything that had happened to them was crystal clear.

Dirge and Thrust were lying just outside of their stasis pods, likely attacked while still dazed and confused from stasis sleep. They’d both been decapitated. The jagged state of their necks suggested their attacker had literally torn their helms right off their frames.

“What the frag,” said Thundercracker, shocked.

“They didn’t even have time to react or put up a fight,” Skywarp said, disgusted. “It gets worse,” and he pointed at Dirge’s helm and then his neck. “Look at his head and neck — someone’s torn out his brain module and his voxbox.”

It was such a slagged-up way to go for a Decepticon warrior; deactivated before they could even put up a fight. “Whoever did this was a coward,” Skywarp announced, his voice hot with hate. “I’ll make the Bra’xis pay for this.”

“I don’t think it was them,” Thundercracker said, his spark sinking. He tapped his arm panel and showed it to Skywarp. On the screen was a Decepticon data-file on the Bra’xis, which included a vid-still of the species. “Does that look like something that could rip your helm off?”

Skywarp grabbed Thundercracker’s arm and squinted at the soft, blubbery-blob of sentient goo that made up the standard member of the Bra’xis race. “Uh, maybe they’re stronger then they look?”

“They don’t have tensile strength,” Thundercracker said irritably, and jerked his arm free. Then he scowled and tapped his arm panel. “Dirge, you still there?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Dirge,” said Thundercracker, “Seriously, no more games. What happened to you?”

“Oh, that’s not important.”

“Kinda feels like it is,” Skywarp said, staring down at the ruin that was Dirge’s frame. “Don’t you want us to avenge you?”

“I should very much like that,” said Dirge, and then explained, “It needed my voice because it doesn’t have one. It reanimated my consciousness so it could use me to communicate with you.”

Dirge hesitated as if fighting a losing battle. “The angel just asked me why you two care so much. I’m sorry but I had to tell it who you are.”

Skywarp’s optics narrowed.

Thundercracker’s scowl deepened. “What do you mean?”

“I mean — it’s coming after you two next,” said Dirge, his voice still eerily calm. “It wants me to tell you something. Something important.”

“And what’s that?” Thundercracker asked.

“Don’t blink” and then the line went dead.

Skywarp grabbed Thundercracker’s arm again and roared “YEAH YOU COME FIND US — WE WILL FRAGGING END YOU!”

“He’s gone,” Thundercracker said, pushing his trine mate away.

“What does he mean ‘the angel’ is coming for us?” Skywarp demanded, fingering his blaster’s trigger.

“I don’t know,” Thundercracker said. “But I bet Starscream does,” and he stared down at his arm panel, then back towards the graying frames on the ground at his feet. The color drained from his face. “What sort of crazy slag has Starscream got us into this time?”

Skywarp shook his helm. “Frag this — I’m calling Megatron,” and bolted towards the door.

“Right behind you,” and Thundercracker swivelled on his heel and hurried after.


	8. Death Incarnate

Starscream crept through the corridors of the _Relentless Pursuit_ , drawing ever closer to what he now recognized as death incarnate.

The corridors and hallways were just as he’d left them; quiet and eerie. Even as discreet as Starscream was trying to be, the sheer weight of his frame meant his footsteps preceded him. The near-perfect silence he intruded upon broadcast him to all who cared to hear.

Starscream suspected the weeping angel already knew he was coming, perhaps even anticipated his return. That was not an encouraging thought.

Sucking in a deep breath, Starscream warily approached the next corridor. Exploding forward, he skidded around the corner in a rush. His blaster was hot in his hands; drawn and ready. He searched the space with his eyes, desperate to pin down his quarry, but his footsteps merely echoed down the empty corridor. It seemed the weeping angel had retreated to the deepest recesses of the ship.

 _It’s drawing me in_ and Starscream didn’t have to wonder why. _The deeper I go the longer it will take me to escape._ He hated that the angel was positioning him to its liking. _You should be dancing to my tune,_ and once again he forced away his worries.

 _At least the lights are back,_ and Starscream found them reassuring in an otherwise terrifying situation. He stalked down the empty corridor, heading towards the next junction. The lights above were bright and steady. He’d sent one hell of an energy burst before he’d left the _Deft Blade_. He even stabilized the ship and turned everything back on. _Hopefully they will last long enough to fool Megatron into thinking the ghost ship is secured._

Starscream wanted Megatron focused on _him_ as the main threat. As far as Megatron knew Starscream had the ‘time gun’ and was planning to kill him with it and take his throne. That part was true enough; the devil was in the details. The real threat would reveal itself soon enough.

For Starscream the real threat was all too clear, especially when the lights began to falter. The effect wasn't noticeable yet, but the flicker was there. It was only a matter of time until the lights went out. His mouth felt dry and he swallowed nervously.

 _I better hurry_. _If I haven’t pinned the angel down by then I’ll have to search for it in the dark_ , and the thought made Starscream’s fuel tanks sink. His hands tightened around his blaster and he forced himself to ignore the quiver in his wingtips. He was having second thoughts again though he knew it would be worth it in the end.

 _It has to be_. _Megatron is on his way. He knows I have a plan and he'll punish me either way. I have to see this through because now there’s no going back._

The moment Megatron’s shuttle arrived Starscream had stepped off the proverbial cliff and committed himself; entering the ghost ship’s main entrance hatch to find and then entrap the weeping angel awaiting inside. The plan was simple. He would find and then hold the monster in place until Megatron arrived. Then he would beat a hasty retreat while his pet weapon amused itself.

The weeping angel would do the rest.

The scattering of sand over the metal floor crunched under Starscream’s feet as he stalked deeper into the ghost ship. The noise warned that he was approaching the corridor that had been the Terrorcon’s last stand. He could just make out the scratches on the wall up ahead. They were the first warning he’d received of the extraordinary monster that he had dared use for his own ends.

Starscream paused a moment to burn the scratches away.

Megatron would get no such warning. He would have no idea he was facing anything more than a mundane murder attempt by an underling. _My unwitting pet will be the catalyst that thrusts me to ultimate power and glory._

Starscream took the next corner. He found himself menacing yet another empty passage, but this time was different. There was something in the air. _I’m getting close_ and the plating on the back of his neck rose. _It’s nearby, maybe around the next corner. Keep light on your wings…_

Starscream kept close to the wall. He was doing his best to watch everything around him. Keeping his blaster drawn helped steady his circuits, though he knew it was useless. He had already decided against trapping the weeping angel or even tangling with it beyond what was needed to kill Megatron. His resources were too limited and the risks too high.

Starscream was certain only his own sheer genius was going to see him through the next few hours. He’d already taken every precaution he could, mustered every defense he could think of. To that end his circuits hummed with energy. He’d ransacked the _Deft Blade’s_ energon supply to infuse himself against the weeping angel’s energy drain. His optical wipers were missing, torn right back out after he’d emerged from the CR chamber. His search-lights were switched on and he had a fully-stocked emergency torch at the ready.

The blaster in his hand was for moral support, only.

 _My only effective weapon is my optics_ , Starscream reminded himself. _The angel has to be free to get the job done. Just get Megatron into the same room with it and then get the frag out. I’ll make good my escape while it’s playing with Megs. Then it’s someone else’s problem._

Another corner up ahead. Another dangerous charge into the unknown. Starscream’s plating rattled for stress. “For victory,” he whispered. He forced his hands steady, took another breath, and then rushed the corner—

—and there it was.

Starscream gasped for surprise and nearly shot the weeping angel right there. He sensed that might be considered rude, though. His wings flexed as he stared as hard as he could. His gaze locked the weeping angel into non-existence, aggressively pinning it in place.

It looked so… _peaceful_.

The weeping angel was facing away from him, standing in the furthermost curve of the corridor as if resting. Stone wings curled elegantly against its back. Fine-chiselled hands covered its face in the classic pose of their dreadful kind.

“Well hello there,” said Starscream, greeting his wayward weapon with utmost charm. “I hope I’m not intruding. It's just I realized how poorly I’ve treated you these last few days. Frankly, I feel just terrible. So I’ve arranged a real treat for you — and you can thank me by _not killing me_.”

The weeping angel made no such promises.

***

Thundercracker and Skywarp took the bridge by storm.

“Get on the comms and call Megatron,” Thundercracker ordered while heading towards the tactical station. “We have to warn him.”

“What are we going to tell him?” asked Skywarp, suddenly nervous. He knew Megatron hated being interrupted while dealing with Starscream. He’d only recently clawed his way back into Megatron’s good graces and didn’t want to jeopardize that. “We better be quick about it.” He was already imagining Megatron’s wrathful tones burning through his audio sensors.

“We tell him that something killed Dirge and Thrust,” Thundercracker replied, his fingers flying over the keypad. “We tell him Dirge is dead, but managed to warn us somehow. We tell him Dirge called it a ‘weeping angel’ and to watch out for it.”

Skywarp took a huge breath and readied himself for the explosion when he broke Meg’s concentration. It couldn’t be helped. He took position at the comms station and tapped the keypad. He groaned “wow Screamer you really don’t trust us” when it refused to connect to anything outside of their ship, warning him that he didn’t have authorization. “Oh no you didn’t” and he typed in his override code.

Nothing.

Skywarp glared at the comms console and then mimed shooting it dead. He crossed his arms over his front and his optics grew unfocused as he pulled up an older program in his personal HUD, hoping that Starscream hadn’t remembered to lock that down too.

Meanwhile, Thundercracker brought the sensor scanner online, one of several critical systems that Starscream hadn’t locked down. First he scanned the _Deft Blade_ but the results only confirmed that they were alone. There was no ‘angel’ on board their ship that he could detect.

Then Thundercracker leaned over the console and brought up a basic scan of the ghost ship. Some of the strain left his wings when two green dots showed up on the scanner — Starscream and Megatron — with no other signs of life. He hoped that meant the ‘angel’ wasn’t currently nearby.

“Scans show clear,” Thundercracker reported, glancing back at Skywarp. He relaxed and dropped his hands on his hips while studying the two errant green dots.

Starscream’s dot was deep inside the ship and motionless while Megatron’s dot was just inside the entrance hatch. Megatron was also stationary. Thundercracker assumed he was investigating what he could from the _Relentless Pursuit’s_ data banks before moving in. Either that or he was delaying to mess with Starscream’s mind. The resulting anxiety might cause Starscream to make a critical mistake. It was hard to tell which.

“Well?” Thundercracker demanded, looking over at Skywarp.

“I can’t reach them,” Skywarp complained, shrugging haplessly. “Screamer thought of everything. I guess there’s no easy way to warn them. He wasn’t kidding about locking us down.” Skywarp reset the communications console for good measure, to no effect. “I got nothing over here.”

“They haven’t gotten serious yet,” Thundercracker said while keying in his override codes. “Hold on, I’m going to try using the ship’s communication system to boost my personal comms. See if I can punch through that way.” Another few taps saw that attempt foiled and his frustration levels rising.

As Thundercracker wracked his brain module trying to figure out something that didn’t involve them storming the ghost ship, he saw Megatron’s dot press forward, which suggested Megatron hadn’t found anything.

Something felt off about all this.

Thundercracker tapped at the readouts at the tactical station. “Starscream can’t lock down our own personal comms. It looks like we are being blocked at the source. I’m guessing Starscream is using a jammer of some kind."

“Only one thing to do,” Thundercracker announced, facing the inevitable. He left tactical and sat down in the command chair. “Go after them.”

***

“Starscream?” called Megatron warily.

Megatron was standing further down the corridor. He’d tracked down his Second easily enough and was now taking stock of the situation. His massive cannon rested on his arm. It was not yet brandished at Starscream, but neither was it pointed at the ground.

“There you are,” Starscream called back without looking. “I’ve been waiting for you,” and he gestured at the weeping angel in the corner. “Take a look at what those idiot Terrorcons have been up to.”

“I came here for the time gun,” Megatron replied, straight to the point. He stared at Starscream’s back plates, disliking that he couldn’t see Starscream’s hands. “I was advised that you’d secured it.” He was still expecting some sort of handheld weapon and he assumed Starscream was holding it out of sight. His finger rested on his cannon trigger. “Give it to me, Starscream — now."

That was the opening. Megatron had given him everything he needed for a grand speech followed by a creative and flashy attempt at murder. Starscream could feel all of Megatron’s senses focused on him like a spotter on a sniper rifle — just as he wanted.

 _He’s so focused on me he isn’t seeing the bigger picture_ , and Starscream smiled approvingly. _Everything is coming together._ He gestured again, directing Megatron’s attention to the statue. “You want to see this. Believe me."

Megatron quirked a brow ridge, but otherwise didn’t move. “Turn around,” he demanded, in a tone one would use on a small sparklet hiding something in plain sight. “Let me see your hands.” His contempt for such a pathetically obvious tactic bled into his voice.

Starscream did so, but in the most curious manner possible. He took step after careful step, moving in a wide circle so to avoid approaching the statue, while placing it between himself and Megatron. His optics never left the statue and he took several steps further back as if positioning himself to flee.

Megatron watched with rapt fascination. Starscream’s actions couldn’t have been clearer to him. Starscream might as well have planted a neon sign that read ‘this is a serious threat’ with an arrow pointing directly at the statue. And his hands were empty — which didn’t make any sense?

“Did I not just give you an order?” and now Megatron’s cannon arm was pointed less at the side and more towards the bizarre threat he was presented with. “I won’t tell you again.” His optics narrowed, though he still sounded confidant.

“Are you blind?” Starscream retorted, throwing Megatron’s contempt right back at him. He pointed at the angel statue with a flourish. “The weapon’s right here.”

Behind its hands, the weeping angel’s expression remained hidden, much like the threat it posed.

***

Thundercracker tapped the control panel, accessing the impulse system. He typed in the coordinates that would bring the _Deft Blade_ alongside the ghost ship. He pressed the final key and settled back in his chair, and then frowned when nothing happened.

“We’re too far away to fly there ourselves,” Skywarp reminded TC, not realizing he’d already tried to engage the engines. Skywarp muttered “that would take forever” but otherwise sounded completely distracted. His optics darted back and forth as he busied himself with something in his HUD, an internal series of screens attached to his optical sensors.

Thundercracker shook his helm and leaned forward, shocked. “You can’t be serious!” He couldn’t believe that Starscream had locked them down to such an extent, especially outside Decepticon-controlled space. _What if the Autobots attacked_ — _we’d be sitting ducks!_ More proof that his trine leader hadn’t thought his clever plan through.

Thundercracker scowled and tried again, even keying in his own override codes. It was at that point that their combined attempts triggered a pre-recorded message.

Starscream’s angry face exploded onto the screen. “I told you idiots not to interfere — and I mean it!” It was an older recording; probably from the last time Starscream had tried to kill Megatron. The Starscream in the recording was still wearing his Cybertronian jet frame, a flashback from the past.

All the consoles on the bridge began blinking as the sleeper program Starscream had uploaded into the _Deft Blade’s_ systems activated. As the screens shut down one by one, Thundercracker realized that Starscream’s warning to them that morning had been sincere — especially when anything that might help Megatron survive promptly shut down.

Thundercracker snarled something unkind. He stood up and took a seat at the darkened navigation station and started typing again. “The ship isn’t responding to _any_ of my commands.” Then he punched the console. “Starscream’s locked _everything_ down.”

"That’s weird,” said Skywarp, so distracted with his HUD that he wasn’t paying attention. “He’s just standing there, staring at a statue.”

“Didn’t you hear me?” Thundercracker demanded, throwing up his hands. “We are dead in the water here! We’ll have to fly over ourselves. Wait — what did you say?”

Skywarp focused on Thundercracker then, and pointed at his HUD. “Screamer only locked us out of _our_ ship. The internal cameras on the Terrorcon’s ship are still working. I’m using our old HUD program to access them.” He pointed at his helm. “Screamer already broke into their systems so I logged in as him. Now I can see everything.”

Thundercracker perked up. “What do you see?”

Skywarp frowned and peered at the tiny vid-screen in his HUD. “I see Starscream, but his hands are empty. There’s no time gun! He’s just standing there staring at a statue.”

“Here,” demanded Thundercracker, pointing at the tactical station. “Port over the camera feed so I can see too.”

“Sure thing,” said Skywarp and a moment later the feed duplicated, showing up at tactical. Skywarp returned his attention to his HUD. “Megs just showed up, but I can’t see them anymore. I think the camera zoom settings changed or something. Now all I can see is the statue,” and he reached towards his optics as if they were bothering him.

“It’s staring straight at me.”

***

“Well?” Megatron said, gesturing at the statue. “How does it work?”

“Is that how little you think of me?” Starscream demanded while simultaneously inching away, wanting to be as far from the weeping angel as possible. “Of course I haven’t uncovered the firing mechanism yet! What sort of imbecile paws randomly at alien technology? What do you take me for — a stupid Terrorcon?!”

Megatron dropped his servos to his hips, growing nettled at his Second’s seeming incompetence. “Have you even scanned it?”

For his part, Megatron was clueless. He had drawn the obvious conclusion; that Starscream wanted him to believe that the statue was the weapon and that Starscream seemed deathly afraid of it. But he had yet to realize that the statue was a living being, and thus the architect of its own designs.

Megatron had yet to realize the danger.

Starscream was the exact opposite. He was now positioned more towards the door. He knew he needed to look away for the monster to attack, but he found himself waffling, too frightened to look away. He could feel the granite sand grains under his pedes, ground down to fine powder under his weight, yet entirely undiminished.

“Well, obviously,” Starscream said, drawing out the syllables. He kept trying to force himself to look away, but ended up just flinching over and over at the weeping angel.

“And what did you—” but Megatron stopped mid-sentence, blinking, his lips thinning for the quirky sight. “What are you _doing_ , Starscream?”

Starscream finally managed a full glance away. He jumped when the angel, unobserved, half-turned towards Megatron. Its hands had lowered from its eyes; a prelude to attack.

 _Gah this thing is so slow_ , Starscream thought, suddenly annoyed. He chose not to remember that the weeping angel had treated him in much the same manner; playing with him for a time before launching into any serious attacks. It seemed to enjoy the slow realization of danger as much as the temporal meal at the end of the hunt.

“Monster,” Starscream accused aloud, glaring at the stone menace. He’d momentarily forgotten that there were _two_ monsters in the same room with him.

***

“Skywarp,” Thundercracker snarled while staring at the screen in sheerest dismay, “How the _frag_ did you not notice what the ‘statue’ looked like?!”

Skywarp shrugged. “Yeah I noticed,” he said, sounding uncomfortable. He was clearly having second thoughts about flying to the ghost ship. “It looks like an angel. But I don’t care about a stupid statue.”

The last thing Skywarp wanted to do was interfere with Megatron if it wasn’t warranted. Calling was one thing — but actually showing up? That was different. There was a damned good chance he’d get shot as an accessory to attempted murder. Even worse, it could mean vorns and vorns of Megatron outright ignoring him again. He couldn't take that much rejection.

“Dirge said a weeping angel was coming after us.”

“So?”

“So — this is what Dirge was talking about. This must be what we have to warn Megatron of!”

“Yeah, but Megs already sees it. He’s standing _right there_ ,” and Skywarp pointed at his HUD for emphasis. “And I didn’t know it was a _statue_ ,” and his tone grew disparaging. “Look at it. It doesn’t look dangerous. It’s… just a stupid stone statue. I’ll fragging shoot it with my blaster. What’s it going to do — fall on me?”

“It killed Dirge and Thrust!”

“While they were _sleeping,”_ Skywarp pointed out, “and you know Megatron’s going to fragging atomize it with his cannon.” He would have continued arguing, but paused to pick some debris out of his optic. Then something in his HUD startled him. “Huh. It moved — it’s closer now.”

Thundercracker cocked his helm and look down at his own screen. The weeping angel was no longer ‘weeping’ but was staring straight at him. Its hands were at its sides, expression unreadable. Every time he met its stone gaze his eyes started itching.

There was something else.

A little red light on the monitor was blinking; indicating that the optical feed had dropped. “We lost the connection,” Thundercracker announced. That meant what he was looking at was just a static image; the last one captured by the internal cameras.

“Yeah, I lost connection too,” said Skywarp, but he still sounded distracted. “Trying to get it back but my HUD is acting kinda weird — I can’t close the screen. I think it froze — I can still see the statue.”

Thundercracker shook his helm. “It’s just a static image,” and he turned to look at the central vid-screen. He stared at the tiny dot that was the _Relentless Pursuit_ and considered flying over alone to make sure Starscream was okay.

Then an idea struck. Thundercracker tapped into his HUD and accessed the ghost ship’s systems. He still couldn’t reach anyone, but as Skywarp said, he could access basic systems. He pulled up the ghost ship’s internal scanning system with its reassuring green dots and tried to port it over to the tactical monitor, at first with no success.

The static image of the weeping angel seemed locked to that monitor. Undaunted, Thundercracker ported the scanner results over to the navigation monitor instead. At least he was able to track what was happening to the two second most important mechs in his life.

“I got the scanner working,” Thundercracker announced, over the sound of Skywarp’s nervously-shuffling feet. “I can track their positions again — their signals are still coming through strong. They both seem okay.”

“Where’s Megatron?” Skywarp demanded.

Thundercracker pointed at the screen. “He’s still with Starscream — wait. No, Megatron is alone now. Starscream’s dot is moving away, real fast. He’s — it looks like Starscream is fleeing.”

As Thundercracker spoke something at the corner of his optic caught his attention. The weeping angel on the tactical screen next to him seemed different. He could swear it was standing closer to the screen. _Not possible_ , he corrected himself. _That’s a static_ _image_.

Thundercracker watched the two dots for a few minutes. Megatron's remained in the same place while Starscream continued to flee. Thundercracker watched as Starscream's dot reached the outer corridor leading to the escape hatch and then paused there. Megatron's dot had yet to move.

“Something’s wrong,” Skywarp said, scratching insistently at his optics. “I don’t — something’s _wrong_.”

Thundercracker nodded and was about to agree when one of the two green dots vanished from the screen. It was there and then it wasn’t — just vanished without a trace.

***

Megatron tilted his helm warily and then smiled.

“A monster – yes, we’ve covered that already,” said Megatron, accepting that designation easily enough. It would be quite apt once the day was won. He glanced at the statue which was now staring directly at him. He drew back with a gasp and then got angry.

Megatron pointed his cannon at the angel. “What is this?” he snarled, fingering the trigger. There was no answer, and then he realized why.

Starscream was already gone. He couldn’t have fled faster if he tried. Frantic footsteps marked his flight out of the room with a repetitious _clunkclunkclunk_ and fading down the corridor, leaving Megatron behind at stupendous speed.

Megatron, startled and alert, stared at the stone statue which otherwise didn’t move. Long moments passed with no further upset. His fear slowly ebbed, supplanted by his growing concern for the prospect of Starscream getting away. Finally he backed away from the odd statue and then began to follow his traitorous second.

Megatron glanced back mid-turn and once again threw himself backwards, his back slamming into the wall, instinctively retreating from the stone statue now right up in his face. Its expression had changed from neutral to cautious.

Megatron, his back still pressed to the wall, continued to stare at the mobile but otherwise non-threatening statue. He was already piecing together what was happening; this was the weapon, his second had described it as a monster, and it was eerily mobile but only when he looked away. Also, there was something in the weeping angel's hand, or at least the hand was curled as if holding something. He could see, though, that the fingers circled around nothing more than empty space.

The stone angel was wearing the exact same wary expression that Megatron was. It appeared as vexed as he was about Starscream’s retreat?

“Can you speak?” Megatron asked, now considering an alliance with the creature. “I have much to offer should you see the wisdom in joining my crusade against the accursed Autobots.”

But the weeping angel didn’t respond, apparently committed to being a statue when observed.

“You are quantum-locked, aren’t you?” Megatron said, frowning. “Which would suggest you don’t actually exist right now. Can you hear me?”

Still no response.

With a thoughtful “hmm,” Megatron set his fingers to his chin as he pondered. And because old habits die hard, he ever-so-briefly lost focus. His eyes turned inward as he considered his next course of action. As he did so, he had the strangest sense of movement.

Megatron’s optics snapped back and within that span of time he also involuntarily blinked. The result was surreal; for the weeping angel had indeed moved, but each time as a static being. First to peer sharply after Starscream’s retreating form while Megatron was unfocused. Then during the blink it looked back towards Megatron and now it was back to staring after Starscream. It was as if someone had exchanged statues during a stop-motion picture; the interim motion cut completely away.

The biggest change was the angel’s expression; an unholy mix of frustration and rage. It also seemed to be about to change direction. The way its body was turning suggested it was going to go after Starscream and leave Megatron behind entirely.

There was no way for Megatron to know the history between Starscream and this creature. He couldn’t know that it was so devoted to killing Starscream that it was willing to forgo a decent meal just for the satisfaction. But he could guess.

Even as startled as he was, Megatron nonetheless grinned with some understanding. “Starscream has that effect on people,” and then he chuckled with no small amount of affection in his voice. His affectionate rumble lingered, echoing down the corridors.

It was a horrible mistake.

Megatron, still grinning, rested his hands on his hips. “I take your interest in me to mean that you can hear me. If so, I would that we might converse and find common ground. I have use for you and it’s clear I have something to offer you in return. Something relevant to your interests,” and he inclined his helm after Starscream in playful suggestion. “I would not be opposed to reasonable levels of vengeance for your discomfort.”

And then — still not appreciating his peril — Megatron purposefully glanced away, intending to give the weeping angel a chance to accept his offer. It did so, but not in the manner he was expecting.

The instant Megatron looked away he felt a terrible pain in his wrist. His attention snapped back to find himself held in a ferocious stone grasp. His wrist was clenched so cruelly as to be agonizing. The weeping angel’s face was microns away from his own, mouth gaping, fangs extruding, stone eyes cruel and wild.

Megatron froze, his optics focusing with laser clarity on the angel’s face. He held the creature captive in its stone form even as he was held captive in its vicious grip. Its expression was its answer. Any hope of using this lonely assassin on the Autobots up and died, and so too any patience he might have offered this creature.

“I accept your refusal with great disappointment,” Megatron announced with utmost statesmanship and grace, and then punched the angel square in the face with his other fist. He stuck with all the considerable force he could bring to bear in such an awkward position.

The weeping angel exploded into pieces. Granite chunks tumbled and spread out over the floor, the lower half of the monster falling over in a cloud of dusty sand.

And that was that.

Megatron — now gravely disappointed with the whole affair — tore off the stone arm still attached to his wrist. He dropped it to the floor and ground it to sand beneath his pede. Then, still staring triumphantly at the mess of granite, he dusted his hands clean.

The lights and internal circuitry throughout the _Relentless Pursuit_ stabilized as the threat of the weeping angel seemed neutralized, though Megatron only noted the change in passing. His spark still pulsed hot. His mind re-focused on his wayward Air Commander.

 _At least this day is not a complete loss_ , Megatron thought. He was already considering how best to punish Starscream for this latest attempt to murder him. It was always a pleasant thought; one that never failed to lift his spirits. It was a small part of the reason he kept his treacherous Air Commander around long after common sense would have marched him straight into the Well of Allsparks.

The next few months of taming and obedience conditioning were eagerly anticipated. He enjoyed the process so much he was willing to allow Starscream these sorts of opportunities; situations so dangerous as to be creditably life-threatening. The rewards were well worth the trouble.

Megatron basked in the moment, savouring the anticipation. It was the ache in his wrist that brought him back. He took a moment to vindictively kick the weeping angel’s head down the corridor. It was as if he was writing in the final sentence on the creature’s book of life; some poetic line that was sure to end with “pathetic.”

The weeping angel’s head went flying and then rolled to a stop a respectable distance away. The head settled with its face in view which Megatron pondered as an afterthought, interpreting the complex expression as various shades of annoyance.

The dust from the ruined statue settled around him, soft and whispery-quiet. And then the oppressive blanket of gloom began to swallow the ship once more. The buzzing and humming of the ship’s internal circuitry slowed and then fell silent.

The statue’s ruin was still in view.

Megatron was about to resume his hunt when the lights began to flicker once again. To his credit, he did notice. He frowned and held his position, pausing to take stock once more. The unknown was dangerous — a warning he respected — and so he studied his surroundings while waiting for that hint of threat to materialize into something real.

When that didn’t happen, Megatron peered closer at the mess on the floor. He was so wary of Starscream’s devious traps that he’d never actually looked away from it. He did find it curious— now that he’d reduced the angel to its basic components — that it still seemed exactly what it appeared to be; a stone statue. There was no inner circuitry or hidden weaponry that he could see. Nothing to suggest the thing had any manner of temporal ability.

It _had_ been startling, but otherwise Megatron struggled to understand how this thing could be so threatening as to send Starscream fleeing like some pathetic mouse. He’d defeated it so easily that it felt like less a threat and more a distraction. This suggested that whatever Starscream was planning, the worst was yet to come.

 _Perhaps the time weapon is still in play_ , Megatron thought, his suspicious expression smoothing over. _This could be a complete distraction. Starscream could be waiting for me to stumble into his real trap._ His hope for a sweet-ass time gun rekindled itself from the ashes like some fiery phoenix.

Megatron, having done his due diligence, decided the hint of threat was false and returned once again to pertinent matters. Tapping his arm communicator — with the stone statue still in view — he cheerfully opened a line to Starscream’s personal comms and prepared to greet his wayward Second with news of his triumphant survival.

And most _especially_ Starscream’s impending punishment…

…and then Megatron blinked.


	9. Pyrrhic Victory

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Small mention of non-con and brutal death incoming.

“Megatron?”

Starscream slid to a stop before the ghost ship’s main entrance hatch. The safety of deep space lay just beyond. His arm panel’s chime had given him pause — Megatron had opened a command-level comm line to him. He perked up then shrank back and his wings shivered.

 _The only way that’s possible is if he’s shattered the weeping angel. Otherwise it would still be blocking comms._ Starscream knew that shattering the angel was a temporary reprieve at best. _The angel will be straight back up the instant Megatron looks away._

Starscream tapped his arm panel to accept the comm, but only after nervously checking that the corridor was still empty. “Megatron?” he whispered, but there was no reply. His spark pulsed in rhythmic chords of hope and fear... and then the comm line went dead. Not muted, not closed, but dead as in the line was abruptly terminated.

Above Starscream, the lights flickered with growing threat. He heard the ghost ship’s systems began to go quiet once more, like the last time. He knew that meant everything was being locked back down by the weeping angel after it had reconstituted itself. The angel was clearly alive but Megatron had gone offline. There was no other explanation but the obvious.

Megatron was no more.

Starscream threw his helm back and his arms lifted to the heavens in a silent hallelujah. Finally all his plotting and scheming had seen him through. All the pain and suffering had been worth it — he was victorious! Now Megatron was dead and he was the Supreme Leader of the Decepticons!

Starscream suppressed the urge to dance for happiness; this was neither the time nor place to celebrate. _The angel doesn’t know where I’ve gone so I should have enough time to slip away_ and he knew time was of the essence. He wasted only an instant to peer back down the corridor, which was still empty.

Then Starscream opened the hatch to the harsh embrace of deep space. The dark void with its starlight veil lay just beyond. The rush of atmosphere out the open hatch sucked at his frame and he was about to surrender to that freezing rushing wind when a powerful force smashed into him. His fall was arrested by that same powerful force as pain exploded from his neck and wrist.

With a shocked shriek, Starscream found himself dangling from the weeping angel’s cruel grasp. _What the hell?!_ He grabbed at the smooth stone hands holding him aloft by the neck, well aware they could send him hurtling to his death at any moment, but also outraged that they were there at all. _I should have had more time then that!_

Starscream’s internal HUD began to fill with damage warnings telling him what he already knew; that his neck plating was bent to a dangerous degree. But that wasn’t the worst of the damage. The angel had broken his wrist; pinning his wrist back so brutally that his arm panel had cracked and his wrist-strut was exposed.

“Oh _frag_ you,” and Starscream ground his denta for the pain while glaring at his tormentor with furious eyes. His adrenal systems kicked into high gear and he recovered his wits. “That really hurts” and then he smirked into the snarling face of the weeping angel. “You know… I just realized I don’t even know your name” and he positioned his foot turbines until they touched the angel’s midsection “and I’ve decided that’s exactly the way I like it!”

Blasting his turbines, Starscream smashed the weeping angel with both feet as hard as he could. Then he roasted the rest for spite. There were few species that appreciated a good toasting and he hoped this angel wasn’t one of them. He heard its stone body crack when he broke free. His turbines roared as he jetted away, and then he realized that once again the weeping angel had not gone for the kill.

It still wanted to play.

 _The cat’s play always ends when it thinks I’m actually going to get away,_ which hinted that the angel didn’t consider the vacuum of space to be a hindrance. It was acting no different than if they were deep within the ghost ship. That was a frightening thought.

 _It has feathered wings_ , Starscream thought while cradling his damaged wrist to his chest. His turbines ran hot as he put as much distance between himself and the angel as he could. _Bird’s wings need air resistance to fly but there’s none in space. There is no way it can follow me — right? I should be safe out in space,_ but he shivered, now unsure. _It never followed me back to my ship so my reasoning is sound, but then again it didn’t have to — it sent its children instead._

A familiar frustration began to coil inside Starscream. It was always these stupid little details that came back to bite him. He glared at the dwindling weeping angel, feeling calmer and more in control the further away he was from the monster. Fracture lines from his attack spiralled like spider webs across its stone body. It was still flat on its back in the hatch entrance, a deceptively comical sight.

 _I wonder how often it gets smashed to bits like this_ , Starscream pondered, because it always seemed to get its panties in a bunch directly after... _I imagine it’s a rare occurrence considering it’s called a ‘lonely assassin’ and probably gets the jump on its prey during normal hunts. All this failure must be really embarrassing._ The thought cheered him up as he continued to stare at the angel while retreating, hoping to keep it locked down for as long as possible.

Meanwhile, warning messages continued to crowd Starscream’s HUD, to the point of distraction. The most pertinent one advised that he could not transform with his neck and wrist so badly damaged. _I can’t transform into my vehicle mode_. That realization came with a growing sense of dread. Being limited to robot mode was going to hinder his flight speed to an uncomfortable degree.

Starscream dismissed them, not wanting his field of vision impeded in any way. At the same time, he tapped a single key on his arm panel. That activated another program that would send override codes freeing the _Deft Blade_ from his sleeper program as soon as his internal comms started working again. It would transmit automatically when he was far enough from the ghost ship that the angel couldn’t affect him anymore.

The ghost ship was getting smaller and smaller the further away Starscream flew. He stared as the weeping angel grew distant in his sight and then he lost sight of it completely. _Alright, now to see if—_ but before he could even finish the thought he had his answer. The weeping angel reappeared in his line of sight like a wraith, floating freely in the depth of space.

 _It can follow me_ and Starscream cursed soundlessly in the void and tried to go faster. _Stupid everything!_ He left it behind again, but as soon as the darkness swallowed it, the angel reappeared, this time even closer. It was even gaining on him.

 _It’s faster than me while I’m stuck in robot mode!_ Even worse, Starscream could feel the tug on his own systems; each time the angel closed the distance between them it drained his energy like before. It was only a matter of time before it weakened him until he couldn’t escape.

The weeping angel knew it too.

Its stone wings were spread wide — not for flight but solely to intimidate — with long chiselled feathers splayed gracefully. Its arms were outstretched and its face looked determined. It wanted him dead and it was going to kill him, one way or another.

“Why are you like this?” Starscream yelled soundlessly at his relentless pursuer. “Who fragging hurt you?!” No answer, not like he was expecting one. There was no sound in space, but yelling always made him feel better.

Starscream knew better then to lead the weeping angel back to the _Deft Blade,_ but didn’t dare return to the ghost ship to try and trap it there. His energy levels were dropping too fast to risk it. _My original plan is still the_ _best_ — _run the frag away._ _Best bet is to get Thundercracker to swing by and pick me up — I’ll hold it in place while I board our ship and then we go to warp right after._

His course of action decided, Starscream waited until the weeping angel was far enough away to not interfere with his systems. Then he tapped his cracked arm panel, trying to connect to his trine’s personal comms. He knew as long as the angel was far enough away from the _Deft Blade_ there shouldn’t have been a problem, but still couldn’t connect.

“Help me!” Starscream shrieked into his comms. “Why aren’t you responding?!”

***

“This is getting creepy,” and Skywarp shrank back, unconsciously backing away from his own internal HUD screen. “I can still see the statue and it’s _moving._ It keeps getting closer.” He blinked and then yelped, throwing himself backwards. “Now it’s _snarling_ at me! It's like it can see me!”

Thundercracker turned back towards Skywarp, but then his eyes caught on the screen at tactical. The angel there had also moved. Its face filled the screen, though its expression remained unreadable. It didn’t match Skywarp’s description — as if his picture was a separate entity. Its eyes were the largest thing on the screen. He stared into those stone eyes and then his own began to itch again.

That was the last straw.

“Restart your HUD,” Thundercracker ordered, heading back to tactical while tearing his optics away from the angel's foul stare. “Force a reset if you have to.” The static itch vanished as soon as he broke eye contact. “I don’t know what’s happening, but we have to shut these screens down!”

Then Thundercracker heard Skywarp cry out. He looked up to see Skywarp cradling his face as reams of sand poured out past his fingers, more than seemed possible. The grains of sand pattered down his frame and scattered over the floor.

“Frag,” yelped Skywarp, completely flabbergasted. “What’s wrong with me?”

“I said restart your HUD!” Thundercracker demanded, his voice rising to a shout. His fingers were quarrelling with tactical which felt like arguing with a brick wall. “Getting real sick of this! I can’t shut the screen down from tactical — you have to close it in your HUD!”

“I can’t,” Skywarp cried out in confusion. “I can’t do anything — and now it’s reaching for me!” He wiped away the sand and wrung his hands. “I don’t know why, but I can’t!” Frightened, he teleported across the room and back, as if trying to escape that way.

Thundercracker abandoned tactical. Intending to hurry to Skywarp’s side, he froze mid-stride when the corner of his optics caught a glimmer that shouldn’t be. He stared at the digital angel — snarling with jutting needle teeth and horrible eyes — halfway out of the tactical screen and staring straight back at him.

“It’s here,” hissed Thundercracker, stepping back. “Whatever these things are, one of them just came through the screen.”

“Get it out,” shouted Skywarp, his fingers clenching. Then he collapsed to the floor and out of sight, clawing at his face.

Thundercracker had his own problems. “You don’t move when I look at you,” he hissed at the monster, his blaster in hand and aimed at the weeping angel. “Don’t blink — _that’s_ what Dirge meant.”

“Skywarp, stop freaking out and stare at it,” Thundercracker yelled over his shoulder. He took careful aim at the digital angel with his blaster. “They don’t move when you stare at them. Just don’t let it move," and he was about to shoot the thing through the head when suddenly everything changed. He jolted when the lights went out, plunging the _Deft Blade_ into darkness and then the ship’s systems came back straight on again.

The digital weeping angel had moved in the dark. It was free of the tactical screen now and was standing a few paces away. Thundercracker whirled and trained his blaster back on it and fired, the shot passing harmlessly through its head and burning into the wall.

There were several such burn marks nearby. Thundercracker’s optics grew wide when he saw the angle and realized what that likely meant. _Starscream — why didn’t you warn us about these things?!_ Then he noticed that the angel’s snarl was gone; replaced by a serene expression. But more importantly, there was a crackle in his HUD as his internal comms restored themselves.

Starscream was shrieking his name.

***

Starscream could see the weeping angel giving chase.

It was the strangest thing Starscream had ever experienced and quite possibly the most frightening. The weeping angel would disappear from sight as he outdistanced it, but the next instant it was a stone’s throw from him, having crossed the distance so fast it almost reached him before he saw it again.

The _Relentless Pursuit_ was a speck in the dark now while the _Deft Blade_ was coming into view. Starscream was still a decent flight out, but he found the lights of his ship encouraging.

“I suppose it’s too late to offer you a high ranking position or maybe your own ship?!” Starscream shouted back at the angel. The space around him was soundless, but he was sure it could hear him somehow, or at least understand his intentions. “I know a couple of nice planets around here with some nice architecture you could haunt!”

“Aww come on,” Starscream yelped when the weeping angel tried again. “We’ve had so much fun together! Why do you have to be like this?” Then it managed to get within a few meters of him — its face changing into a snarling rictus when it thought it might reach him. He knew it was going to follow him straight into the _Deft Blade_ if he let it.

“THUNDERCRACKER WOULD YOU BE SO FRAGGING KIND AS TO ANSWER ME?! Starscream roared into his internal comms, even knowing it was useless. He wasn’t going to be using any communication systems unless the angel wanted him to.

Then his comms crackled and the most beautiful angry voice burst through his comms. “Starscream, what the hell is happening?!”

“Thundercracker — Help me! I can’t outrun this thing!” Starscream howled into comms while keeping an eye on his pursuer. _If I never see another classical angel statue in my life that would be just grand_ and to that end he made a mental note to make his first order as Glorious Leader of the Decepticon Empire to have destroyed every single statue that wasn’t him festooned with a large yet still tasteful crown, but in the meantime his royal highness was most displeased to see his ship was still very, very stationary. “What are you waiting for?! Get the ship moving and come get me!”

“We can’t,” Thundercracker cried and Starscream had the strong impression TC was wringing his hands. “The ship’s locked down and useless! You have to remove the security lock out!”

"You sucking pretty hard right now, Screamer!" Skywarp yelled, sounding a little unhinged.

Starscream peered down at his arm panel and shouted “I already did” and then he yelped when the weeping angel nearly caught him for the distraction. It came at him the instant he looked away and looked almost amused when Starscream saw it coming in time.

“You’re having a grand old time, aren’t you?” Starscream hissed soundlessly into the void, and then repeated into his comms that the program was shut down. “Everything should be up and running!” He was still glaring at the angel when he heard his trine’s shocked cries and shouts.

“Why?!” and Thundercracker’s voice burst through his comms. “Why didn’t you warn us?!” and Starscream had never heard him sound so panicked.

“Wait — what are you seeing?” Starscream demanded, suddenly realizing why the ship might not be responding. “What have you idiots done?!”

Thundercracker yelled back “They are coming through the screens!”

“SHUT THEM DOWN,” roared Starscream. Then in the next breath he ordered Thundercracker to lock down the warp core connections and for Skywarp to go hug the core again, “that should shut them down” but the next words out of Thundercracker shocked him speechless.

“Skywarp can’t — he’s got one of them inside of him,” cried Thundercracker.

“What do you mean inside of him?” Starscream demanded, but then put it all together himself. _An image of an angel is an angel, they can come through vid-screens — and what were optics but internal screens?!_ — and then all his plates stood on end when he remembered the itch and the _batcher-fragging sand_ flowing out over his fingers.

 _It was trying to kill me through my eyes_ , Starscream realized, remembering how hard it was to force his programs to reboot. _It must have been fighting me_ and that realization that it had been _in his eyes_ and affecting his very mind was what finally broke him. _I should never have messed with these stupid things. I should have let that doctor have them — what was I thinking?!_

“Skywarp, listen—” Starscream shouted, frantic. He was about to order Skywarp to reboot his optical systems but Skywarp wasn’t listening.

“Where is Megatron?” Skywarp interrupted, shouting through his fingers, hysterical. Collapsed on the floor, he was staring at the angel menacing him from inside his own helm. It was all he could see anymore, those horrible teeth, and he was barely holding it at bay with his optics. His hands clawed over his face.

Starscream yelped when the weeping angel took another swipe at him. It was taking advantage of his distraction and even worse, had apparently created more children inside the _Deft Blade_. Those were manageable, but this one was too evil for words… _can’t lead it back to them!_

Then the comm channel cut out again.

***

“Starscream?!”

Thundercracker shouted into his comms, poking at his helm. The comms had cut out, and when he looked back he didn’t have to wonder why.

The digital angel was snarling again.

“I’m sorry sir,” said Dirge, his voice coming through the comms loud and clear. “The angel says it needs something from you both — something for Starscream to remember you by.”

And then Thundercracker heard a sound that he would never, ever forget. It was a calamity of sound; wet fingers clawing over metal, Skywarp’s horrified scream cut short, the thrum of teleportation terminating abruptly, and the _screeel_ of tearing metal.

Thundercracker choked as a second angel seemed to appear out of nowhere, standing over where Skywarp had been sprawled on the floor. It was holding something in its hands; something round and dripping.

Thundercracker whirled and started shooting, but his blaster shots went right though the second weeping angel and in the meantime, he’d stopped looking at first. He realized the danger in the same instant. He threw himself to the side, whirling around. The first angel was _right in his face_ so fragging fast he never saw it actually move.

And that was where Thundercracker held them, his blaster pointed uselessly at two monsters he had little hope of defeating, simply for lack of forewarning. He tried to think of some way to entrap them, but all he could focus on was Skywarp’s horrified face. All he could see was Skywarp’s mangled head held up by the second angel.

The monster was _smiling_ at him.

Thundercracker stared back, betrayed and haunted. “Starscream _knew_ about you freaks and he didn’t tell us.” He stumbled back and then fired his blaster at the angels again. He emptied his clip and kept firing, the useless _click-click-click_ of an empty blaster drowned out by the building roar in his spark. Then the wipers at the corners of his eyes fired, to wick away the pools of fluid gathering at the edges.

As the wipers crossed over Thundercracker’s eyes there was one last _click—_

—and then only silence.

***

 _I have to risk it_ _,_ Starscream thought.

 _I’ll have a better chance to trap this thing inside the ship then out here._ He was growing more frightened by the moment. _I have to get to the ship._ His energy levels were dropping and now the weeping angel’s attacks were becoming more and more pointed. It was getting too close to him.

Decision made, Starscream burned energon and headed straight for the _Deft Blade’s_ entrance. He tried to time it so the angel was far enough away that he could access the _Deft Blade’s_ systems. But when he tried and failed to open the hatch by remote, he realized the digital angels Thundercracker was dealing with had already compromised the ship’s systems.

 _Thundercracker can handle the babies_ _,_ Starscream tried to assure himself. _This one is the real threat — it’s vicious and canny and knows its business. I’ll have to defeat it myself somehow._

The elegant and lethal interceptor-class ship loomed large as Starscream approached it. He circled the ship, which was starting to list to the side. Flying around the edge, he groaned when he realized he’d have to waste time opening the outer hatch manually — but grew surprised when the angel actually seemed to keep its distance.

The weeping angel had charged forward when lost to view. That was just like before, but then it stopped mid-way and floated there with wings outstretched. It seemed unbothered, waiting patiently while the _Deft Blade_ turned slowly beneath it. _  
_

For the first time Starscream noticed that its momentum when he couldn’t see it didn’t affect its stone mass. The scientist in him would have loved to ponder the sheer mechanics of such a bizarre form of life, but the newly minted Leader of the Decepticons didn’t have time. _  
_

Starscream wasn’t sure what it was up to, but knew better to think it found the _Deft Blade_ intimidating, or that it wouldn’t try to follow him on board. _If I can get the hatched closed behind me it will have to fight its way through. That will give me some time to get ahead of it and figure out a plan.  
_

 _Getting inside is going to be awkward_ _,_ Starscream realized. _Too much to hope my trine is going to help me out here_ and so he kept his optics locked on the weeping angel while groping the outside panel behind him, trying to get the hatch open.

Starscream had just triggered the hatch open and was floating through the entrance backward — to keep the angel in view and thus non-existent — when he realized why the angel had chosen that particular spot to wait. The _Deft Blade_ was listing in slow circles and now the outermost wing was floating serenely overhead, slowly turning to pass between them. _  
_

“No,” Starscream hissed. He was swinging his legs around to propel himself inside when the fatal moment struck. Or rather, the weeping angel struck. It hit with such force that Starscream smashed through the entrance and into the ship proper. He slammed into the nearest wall without ceremony, knocked offline and straight into a memory flux… _  
_

 _…and Starscream sat on his aft, watching as the Combaticons strode away from Megatron’s throne without a care in the world. They had reported their mission successful to Megatron and were now off to reap the rewards of their excellent service to the Empire. As he left, Onslaught glanced over his shoulder and shook his helm at Starscream, who glared right back._ _  
_

_“Do you know why you keep failing?” Megatron asked, nudging him with his foot._

_Starscream scowled up at him from his vulnerable position on the floor, where he’d been cast low after his latest takeover attempt had failed in the usual spectacular fashion. His wings flicked back and then he grunted when Megatron nudged him again, demanding an answer._ _  
_

_“Because you’re a monster,” said Starscream, glaring balefully at that huge silver foot. He almost expected to get kicked, but usually Megatron was better than that. Usually... and he had demanded an answer, after all._ _  
_

_“That too,” Megatron said with small smile. “But the truth is — you are too arrogant for your own good. You have such a high opinion of yourself and your abilities that you overlook the small details. You never take into account the unknown.”_

_“Too arrogant?” Starscream had snapped back derisively. “Do you seriously expect me to take this advice from a mech who unflinchingly refers to himself in the third person?”_

_Megatron had lifted an optic brow and then glanced away. “It would serve you well to remember that what you don’t know can kill you — and the smallest details are often the biggest flaws.” Then he settled himself more comfortably atop his throne. He stared at Starscream thoughtfully and then smirked, throwing a leg out in lurid demand..._ _  
_

…and Starscream’s various systems rebooted. His processor was as slow as molasses but still spared him the rest of that memory segment, the taste of which he was still trying to forget. He came back online instead to realize a terrible weight on his chest, pinning him to the floor. His energy levels were desperately low, so much so that he could hardly move.

Starscream looked up to see the weeping angel resting some of its lower stone reaches on his chest, its chiselled stone conforming to his frame. It was staring down at him with an expression of sheerest satisfaction… and once again he found himself still alive.

“I’m not the only arrogant one here,” said Starscream to the weeping angel. He cursed it the worst way he knew how, by hoping this monster had someone like Megatron in its life; a person so supremely obnoxious as to foil every plan, thwart every ambition, and even insult him in his own fragging dreams.

 _Where is my trine? They should be here helping me with this thing_ and then the energy indicator in Starscream’s HUD dropped another percentage. _There is a way out of this_ and his mind raced as he ran through his options, which were few. _There is always a way out_ and he tried and failed to connect to his brother’s comm lines.

“Why haven’t you killed me?” Starscream finally demanded, getting to the point. “This is starting to feel tiresome. You chase me, I thrash your stony aft, you come back for more, rinse and repeat,” and despite his bravado, he was feeling frightfully light-headed.

At first there was no response, but then a familiar but impossible voice answered. “The angel doesn’t want you to leave without your present.”

“Dirge?!” Starscream shouted, trying and failing to kick out at the weeping angel with his feet. He was horrified in more ways than one. “You were sent into the past instead of— I mean even after all I did to try and save you! I saw your corpse!”

“No sir,” said Dirge, his voice strangely unruffled. “I’m still here, unfortunately.”

“Where are you?” Starscream whispered, dreading the answer.

“In the angel’s hand,” said Dirge.

“Oh,” said Starscream, wriggling uselessly. He squinted then stared hopefully at the little empty space in the angel’s fingers. “So your body was transported back in time, but your spark is still here.”

“No sir,” said Dirge, sounding a little less unruffled then before. “The angel killed us; me and Thrust. Tore our heads off and left our bodies there. You just — you never came to check on us.”

Starscream’s lips quirked for the unusually mild accusation. “Well, that’s one way of looking at it.” His mind was still racing, trying to find some way out of his impending demise, now even more impending thanks to these new revelations. “I’m still alive though,” he pointed out, grasping at straws. “Which means the angel wants something. I’m happy to make a deal with — what’s its name, anyway?”

“They don’t have names,” and then Dirge added, “I already told you why you’re still alive.” _  
_

Starscream squirmed desperately under the angel’s weight. “I must have missed it,” and then he smiled wryly. “Perhaps you could explain how terrible I feel about this complete misunderstanding between us and now as the Exalted Leader of the Decepticons how willing and able I am to make things right—”

“The new angels are coming,” said Dirge, matter-of-factly. “They have something for you.”

Starscream shrank into himself. “I don’t want it” he whispered, already suspecting what that something might be. His brothers should have come for him by now. They had always been there for him before. He had a horrible feeling that Thundercracker might not have been able to handle the newborns as easily as he’d assumed.

Above Starscream, the lights flickered. In those writhing shadows he saw the digital angels appear, the two of them smiling brightly, each holding up something round and dripping.

“No,” Starscream whispered, but it was them, and as the moisture gathered at the edge of his optics, his vision blurred…

…and then he vanished without a trace.


	10. Fate Inevitable?

The Doctor stared grimly out of his dual-use space and time travelling ship, the TARDIS.

The door to the TARDIS cracked open. Light escaped out of the crack and the Doctor peered outside, looking more than a little worried. This was normal when dealing with this particular menace, or any menace where the absolute best tactic to avoid death is simply to run away at one’s best possible speed.

Not much running to do, in space.

In the distance, the _Deft Blade_ was floating in listless circles; dark and cold and powerless. The hatchway was still open. The wall where the weeping angel had pinned Starscream was noticeably dented. Splatters of blood had dried and then froze when the ship’s power drained away and the cold crept in.

“This is the part that I always hate,” muttered the Doctor, while cracking the door open a little further. He almost closed it again, leaving only space enough for one eye to peek through. “The part you always see in the horror pictures. The idiot protagonist heads down to the basement — against all common sense?! — and then gets brutally murdered. I was hoping they’d have done more to kill each other off. At least they could’ve trapped the worst one.”

The Bra’xis, a gargantuan blob behind him, burbled something from where it was seated on the floor of the TARDIS. While still a captive of the Doctor for its crimes (stealing from containment quite possibly the most malevolent weeping angel in existence and unleashing it upon an unsuspecting universe) it seemed far less combative then before. This might have something to do with its own life being on the line. It waved its noodly appendages expressively and from the Doctor’s pained expression it was likely pointing out something obvious.

“Yes, I know,” snapped the Doctor, glaring down at his sonic screwdriver. The multi-purpose tool was buzzing unhappily at him. “I know it's waiting for me on that ship. And now it’s bloody _massive_ thanks to the all-you-can-eat buffet your soldiers and then these Cybertronians provided it.”

The size thing was a serious problem for the Doctor. He and the TARDIS were human sized, while his captive and the weeping angels were the size of Cybertronians. “Bloody big problem,” muttered the Doctor. It wasn’t uncommon for weeping angels to take on more or less mass to match their prey; the better to play with their food before eating it. But it made capturing them that much harder.

The Bra’xis burbled again, more pointedly this time. It added two more appendages to the first and waved them urgently at the Doctor.

“Yes, I _know_ there are three Angels now,” said the Doctor, snapping the tool closed.

“Burble,” said the Bra’xis, throwing all its appendages up into the air and waved them around all panicked-like. “Burble!”

“Yes, I know two of them are digital and can pass through walls,” shouted the Doctor, “and most certain to attack me when I least expect it!” He was still glaring at the seemingly lifeless ship floating dead ahead and seemed to be weighing his options.

“At least those assassins and despots and mass murderers and otherwise unsavoury characters have been reduced from a grand total of eleven to a more manageable three—”

“Burble!”

“I _am_ managing them.”

For the second time the Doctor’s sonic screwdriver began to buzz. The noise rose to a fevered pitch until the Doctor tapped it, shaking his head. He could tell something was dreadfully off. “Feels like something big is happening — but can’t figure out what.”

“Burble!?” yelled the Bra’xis, pointing at an overhead screen.

The Doctor tore across the TARDIS, leaving the door still open a crack, even as his screwdriver continued to buzz in his pocket. His head came closer and closer and then he popped right up into view, like some sort of demented but good-humoured daisy.

“Oh,” said the Doctor, staring right at you.

“Burble!”

“ _Oh_ ,” said the Doctor again, backing away from the curious sight. “Things are going bugger-all, aren’t they?” and then he looked down at one of the TARDIS’ screens. “Wait — why are these on?” His eyes focused on something and then he yelped. He slapped the screen off like he was hitting a wasp. He tore back across the TARDIS and shut the rest of the screens down in the same manner.

“Were you playing with these?!” The Doctor demanded of his Bra’xis captive, glaring up at the quivering and exceedingly guilty-looking blob like one would a naughty puppy. “Haven’t you been paying attention?! Screens are doors to them! We can’t be letting them in—”

The Bra’xis shrieked, which sounded more like flatulence than anything else. It pointed to the open door of the TARDIS where three weeping angels were peeking inside; all of them too large to actually enter. That didn’t seem to bother them though.

“Idiot savant,” said the Doctor, and it was unclear if he was accusing his captive or himself. He glared up at the invading Angels, holding them in place. “Stare at them. Not the eyes! Anywhere else, just stare at them — don’t look away and don’t blink.”

The original weeping angel was fully in view, but not-so-much its digital children. Near the ceiling of the TARDIS, the Doctor could make out their ghostly hands hovering ominously; so massive as to cover the ceiling of the TARDIS. All they had to do was drop their outstretched hands to send everyone inside to their deaths.

This the Angels well knew; they were all merry smiles. The ball was now in the Doctor’s court. This was their way; the threat was presented and now they were patiently awaiting their prey to make a mistake.

Just one, single mistake.

Or maybe a few mistakes — perchance for mimsy. The original angel was quite familiar to the Doctor, who’d very nearly died while capturing it the first time — time paradoxes just everywhere — hence all the warnings he’d plastered over the containment chamber to keep this sort of thing from happening again.

The newborn weeping angels were new to him, though. They were still translucent — but that was only a matter of time. Their ghostly hands, while threatening enough with fingers outstretched, were currently empty except for the original Angel, who appeared to be holding something.

“The angel says hello,” said Dirge, his voice cold and crackling. “It greets you like an old friend. It says it’s been waiting for you. It might actually be happy to see you—” then Dirge hesitated and added, “but I think that’s a bad thing.”

“Oh, it most definitely is,” groaned the Doctor, his face suddenly crestfallen. “It appears I may have overplayed my hand. No matter — do hold on to something my noodly friend — and let us rewind the clock.”

“Burble!”

The TARDIS vanished in the nick of time.


	11. Inescapable Conclusions

“Restart your HUD,” Thundercracker ordered, heading back to tactical while tearing his optics away from the angel's foul stare. “Force a reset if you have to.” The static itch vanished as soon as he broke eye contact. “I don’t know what’s happening, but we have to shut these screens down!”

Thundercracker was about to follow his own orders when he heard Skywarp cry out. He turned to see Skywarp cradling his face as streams of sand poured out past his fingers, more than seemed possible. The grains of sand pattered down his frame and scattered over the floor.

“Frag,” yelped Skywarp, completely flabbergasted. “What’s wrong with me?”

“What’s wrong with you is that you have one of _them_ — a weeping angel — inside your helm, inside your mind,” announced the Doctor. “Stare at it, don’t look away, and don’t blink. If you do the angel will emerge from inside your head with disastrous consequences.”

Meanwhile, Thundercracker whirled in place. “Who the frag are you?!” and he aimed his blaster at the stranger.

“Thunders, what’s happening?” cried Skywarp, sand gathering in the spaces between the gears of his fingers. “Who’s that little voice?” He’d heard the strange voice and somehow he believed it, but right now knowing the mechanics of his death was neither helpful nor reassuring. “How do I get this thing out of me?!”

Thundercracker menaced the Doctor, who appeared to him as a standard small humanoid squishy, except for the non-standard police-box-ship thingy that was parked on the science terminal with the door flung open. The little ship was much larger on the inside, evidenced by the massive Bra’xis that was peeking through the door, its noodly appendages (complete with eye-spots) sticking out and waving absurdly at a now dumbfounded Thundercracker.

“Stop right there,” demanded the Doctor, his hands on his hips. “Thunders, is it? Look Thunders, we don’t have time for this. The monitor there, what do you see?”

Thundercracker grumbled “It’s Thundercracker, not Thunders” because nobody called him that who wasn’t his brother from another batcher. And anyway, he was not about to take orders from a squishy. He brandished his blaster and was about to repeat his demand when Skywarp answered the Doctor instead.

“I can see it,” whispered Skywarp, horrified. “I think it wants to kill me! Please help me, strange little voice!” Under normal circumstances he was the more xenophobic of the two, but right now he was willing to put that aside due to his precarious position.

“First of all — yes it’s going to kill you. That’s what they do,” said the Doctor, glaring at the monitor where he could see the digital angel just about to come through. “You are a type of machine, aren’t you?” and he held the angel captive with his gaze while avoiding its dangerous stone eyes. “So you need to do a full reboot to clear it from your screens. Shut the power down to yourself.”

Skywarp sounded scandalized. “What do you mean a _machine_? I’m a Cybertronian, little voice! I can’t shut myself off like that!”

“He means reboot your optics,” said Thundercracker, lowering his weapon. He was worried and about to hurry to Skywarp’s side when his eyes caught on the tactical vid-screen. His wings flared for surprise. The weeping angel was snarling with its eyes locked on him. It was about to come through the screen. One hand was already through.

An instant later and the vid-screen fritzed.

Skywarp yelped and scrabbled back, feeling the spray of sparks over his plating. The screen and half the console bubbled and then melted into scrap; a victim of the Doctor’s sonic screwdriver. Fortunately the effect was localized and so they weren’t atomized in a massive fireball because Starscream had convinced Megatron that safeties and redundancies were for wussies. Unfortunately for the newborn angel that screen was terribly important and so it winked out to nothingness and stayed there.

“Sorry,” muttered the Doctor, rubbing at his eyes. “My fault. It’s harder to avoid blinking when you haven’t slept for days” and as he spoke his voice gained in volume and he glared back over his shoulder at the Bra’xis “thanks to a universe full of idiotic schemers all PLOTTING TO COMMIT TEMPORAL SUICIDE—”

“Burble,” said the Bra’xis reproachfully. It waved its noodly appendages at the doctor, pointing at its restraints which it could have oozed out of already. It hadn’t done so and was clearly apologetic about the whole situation. From the look of things, it had quite likely apologized a million times already for its ridiculously large amount of personal stupidity.

Thundercracker interrupted their conversation, still wanting to understand what was happening. “You still haven’t told us who you are?”

“Yes Thunders, so you’ve said,” replied the Doctor, calming back down. He was about to introduce himself properly when his sonic screwdriver rattled ominously. Distracted, he stared at his implement instead, which was making all sorts of unhappy noises and the closer it came to analyzing whatever it was detecting the more anxious the Doctor seemed to get.

“Don’t call me that again,” warned Thundercracker while staring at the smoking vid-screen. Then he peered down at the flippant little humanoid expectantly.

“I am the Doctor,” he replied, as if that explained everything.

“I’ve heard of you,” and Thundercracker’s wings perked up. “Starscream told me about you. He said you warned him about… all of this. He said if things went wrong you would know how to help him!”

Meanwhile, Skywarp made a fearful sound and slapped at his own helm. Thundercracker heard that soft cry and realized Skywarp was still on the ground, curled into a ball of fearful seeker. It was obvious he hadn’t rebooted his systems yet.

The Doctor shook his helm. “There is no helping Starscream” but then he pointed at Skywarp. “But we can still save this one and stop the children from emerging. The second angel will be coming through any second. You have to make him reboot his optics. He has to clear it from his optical screens or he will die.”

Thundercracker hurried across the bridge. “We’ll talk about Starscream after Skywarp is safe” he warned and then knelt next to Skywarp and grabbed his arm. “Skywarp, you know what you need to do. Just fragging do it.”

“I can’t,” repeated Skywarp with a shiver, though he sounded unsure. “I mean — I think I can’t? I really don’t want to. It feels like I can’t do it.”

“You have to,” insisted the Doctor. “That’s the weeping angel trying to influence you. You have to ignore it and reboot your optics.”

“Burble,” said the Bra’xis, encouragingly.

“Can’t!” Skywarp insisted, his vocalizer hitching. The corners of his optics were dripping fluid for the strain. Then his optics twitched; a herald of the disastrous double-optic blink that was only seconds away.

The Doctor sighed and then pointed his sonic screwdriver at the trembling Skywarp. He fiddled with a dial, took careful aim, and then depressed the trigger. A bolt of energy flashed and arcs of electricity danced over Skywarp’s frame to the tune of his shocked shriek, coalescing between his clenching fingers and then straight into his optics and fizzled out.

Skywarp’s eyes went completely dark. “You burnt out my optics!” he cried, clutching his face. “Little voice — you’ve blinded me!” — at least until he was given new optics, but still very upsetting. He groaned and hugged himself. “Well this sucks.”

“He’ll be alright,” said the Doctor, snapping the cap back onto his sonic screwdriver. “Or at least better off then he would be if that angel had exploded out of his head.” He sounded satisfied; two angels down with one left to go.

All around them the _Deft Blade’s_ systems stabilized.

Thundercracker turned to see Starscream’s green dot flying towards the ship. He had almost reached the _Deft Blade,_ but was still in his primary mode for some reason, which was slowing him down considerably. Thundercracker tried and failed to open a comm-line to Starscream, which wasn’t necessarily abnormal depending on his mood. Then Thundercracker tapped the command chair’s panel and opened the ship’s emergency hatch for Starscream. A few moments later and the green dot entered the ship’s entrance hatch at speed and then abruptly stopped there.

“What about Megatron?” asked Skywarp, recovering fast. Suddenly he was worried for someone other than himself. “He disappeared from the scanners, but he’s okay, right?”

“You said Starscream was beyond help” said Thundercracker warily, ignoring Skywarp’s question. His focus had switched to the next brother that apparently needed saving. His optics narrowed as he watched Starscream’s dot now stationary inside the ship — seeming neither in a true hurry nor in any detectable threat — and then turned towards the Doctor. “What did you mean by that?”

“Comms should be up,” muttered Skywarp under all the worrying chatter.

Skywarp’s HUD was down and so he felt around blindly for a chair. He crawled up off the floor and groped the communications console, settling into his seat. He had long since memorized the various stations, and as mad as he was about everything, he still loved his high-strung brother and so tried to open a line to Starscream, but was unsuccessful and then the conversation behind him took a dark turn.

“Starscream is temporally locked,” said the Doctor, his voice carefully neutral. “Because he knew his own fate, it became a fixed point in time.” His sonic screwdriver was complaining mightily now. “That means what happened to him cannot be changed.”

Thundercracker bristled and pulled up the vid-still that Starscream had given him; the two bodies still entwined in a deathly embrace. “He said _you_ showed him this.”

“I did,” said the Doctor.

“Everything should be back up,” Skywarp hissed, one hand covering his darkened optics and the other poking angrily at the communications console. “So why can’t I reach his comms?!”

Thundercracker blinked at that. His eyes darted towards the green dot just in time to see it vanish without a trace. “We just lost his signal!” Thundercracker whirled towards the Doctor. “What’s happened to him?!”

“And what happened to Megatron?” demanded Skywarp.

“They were cast back in time — to the very dawn of time — by the weeping angel. The angels feed on the temporal energy of unlived lives. The same thing will happen to you if we don’t defeat this monster here and now,” warned the Doctor.

Above them, the lights began to flicker and the ship’s systems began to lock down again, one by one. They were failing much faster than before. It seemed whatever was affecting them knew its business well. The lights overhead were wavering in fearful patterns as if counting down to some inevitable conclusion.

The Doctor, no stranger to the games of angels, peered up at the lights warily. His lips thinned as if in preparation for some desperate calamity soon to arrive. He muttered “when I least expect it” under his breath, but then again he was expecting this final showdown, so what new evil did the weeping angel have in mind?

Thundercracker was no fool. He realized what the ship’s faltering screens likely meant and looked down at the screen with the missing green dot. His optics narrowed as the pieces fell into place and he realized where the Doctor fit into the terrible mess that Starscream had made of everything.

“You are the time weapon,” accused Thundercracker, unsettled. He glared down at the Doctor with his wild hair and sonic screwdriver with his time-machine TARDIS behind him; the very picture of some sort of mad professor running amuck. “Aren’t you?”

“I am a Time Lord,” corrected the Doctor, with the mildest of reproaches. “Though your description would not be inaccurate considering what I bring to bear against creatures as monstrous as the weeping angels. In that case, yes I am _a_ time weapon, but not _the_ time weapon — upon which your Starscream risked his destiny and lost.”

The Doctor frowned as the lift behind them began to move, dropping further down the shaft as if to collect someone. “I expect we will be dealing with _that_ particular angel very shortly.”

“You fragged Starscream over,” said Skywarp, only partially following the conversation but sharp enough to figure out the most important bits. “He’s trapped and it’s your fault — I’ll fragging kill you.”

Thundercracker took a step forward as if to do just that. His hand balled into a fist to squash this upsetting little squishy. “Why would you do that?!” His optics flared dangerously. “Who do you think you are to frag with us?”

“We went over that already,” said the Doctor firmly, his shoulders squared and defensive. He was holding his sonic screwdriver more like a weapon then before. “I am a vanquisher of monsters. I am well aware of your genocidal intentions towards non-mechanical peoples and the unflinching barbarity inflicted upon everyone around you, including your own people. Frankly, the universe is _markedly_ better off without you.”

The accusation hung in the air.

Skywarp sniffed. “We’re Decepticons. That’s what we do.”

“Burble,” agreed the Bra’xis nervously, a long noodly appendage peering at the _Deft Blade’s_ screens. “Burble,” it noted, pointing at the two yellow dots that had just appeared on the tactical console. The ship’s internal scanners had just unlocked — so that the mice could watch the cat’s approach. The scanners had picked up the movement of cold metal and then recognized them, but had marked them as suspicious. They were without power and moving oddly, lurching forward as if under remote control.

The Doctor seemed just as nervous, but otherwise stood his ground unflinchingly. “Precisely — and I would have left you to your fates, except Starscream failed to live up to the hype. He died and left the weeping angels in too strong of a position to manage.”

“Burble,” said the Bra’xis, his eyes half-lidded and he couldn’t have said ‘I told you so’ any more clearly than that. He also waved his appendages over the tactical console, trying and failing to catch everyone’s attention. The yellow dots were now entering the lift and apparently on route to the bridge.

“Burble!”

“Starscream said you knew how to help him,” Thundercracker said, ignoring all the obnoxious flatulence from the goo-bag and pointing his blaster directly at the Doctor. “And so that is what you are going to do.” In the silence that followed, everyone finally noticed the hum of a lift in motion.

“BURBLE!” shrieked the Bra’xis.

“He’s here,” said the Doctor, turning to great the newcomers. “This one is the worst — simply the worst. Vicious and cunning, he slayed an entire platoon of holy warriors and nearly took my wife and dearest friend from me and then survived my best efforts to destroy him. He then left a trail of infested planets and death in his wake before I was able to track him down and contain him. Now he’s free to do what he does best and I suggest we all tread carefully.”

“I’m not finished with you,” said Thundercracker, clearly considering the Doctor as the primary threat. He wasn’t wrong about that, but in the meantime the next apocalypse had arrived.

The lift opened and out stepped… two very headless corpses. Dirge and Thrust lurched forward like ventriloquist puppets, their frames moving to someone else’s tune. They stumbled onto the bridge while their bloody frames hid something behind them. Then they parted, each stepping aside to reveal the hands holding the strings.

Skywarp cocked his helm towards the wet plodding sound, straight out of every zombie flick he’d ever watched back on Cybertron. “Thunders — what are you seeing?” His plates were flared because whatever it was, he could tell it wasn’t good.

The weeping angel stood triumphantly before them, pinned down by their collective stares without a qualm. It was as elegant as ever. Its graceful wings were folded with one hand covering its eyes. Its other hand was held aloft, fingers curled around a deceptively empty space while behind its concealing hand lurked the most satisfied of smiles.

“Skywarp,” said Thundercracker, his voice a sibilant hiss. “Warp out of here _now_.”

Skywarp frowned behind his fingers. “No way.” He pulled out his blaster and held out his hand, waiting for one of the zombies to try and attack him. There was nothing wrong with his teleportation abilities, so he remained an opponent worthy of some effort.

“Keep your eyes on the angel,” warned the Doctor to his Bra’xis companion. “It will kill you in a heartbeat, so don’t give it the chance.”

“Burble!”

Thundercracker glanced first at the Doctor and then to the goo-bag. He noted the enormous number of gooey eye noodles holding the weeping angel captive and then rounded back on the Doctor. “You haven’t thought this through, have you?”

“Millions more lives lost between now and their final fates should they survive this,” said the Doctor, beating him to it. “Trillions of lives and multitudes of species lost to the Decepticon Cause to date. The deaths of Megatron and Starscream are a boon for everyone in this part of the galaxy! So please, give me one good reason—”

“I’ll give you _all_ the reasons,” said Thundercracker, his optics blazing. “I just figured out what your instrument is trying to warn you about. There’s one little detail you’ve overlooked in all this.”

The Doctor frowned down at his sonic screwdriver, which was in the midst of the mechanical equivalent of a grand-mal seizure. “I’m listening.”

“Sorry to be a bother,” Dirge broke in, “but the Angel—”

“ **Not now** ,” Thundercracker, Skywarp, and the Doctor yelled in unison.

“—the Angel has a proposition for you,” Dirge insisted, as patient as death.

“I’m finished with you,” threatened the Doctor, uninterested in the Angel’s games. “You are going straight back into containment—”

“That’s the offer,” Dirge interrupted calmly. “The Angel will agree to surrender to the Doctor’s custody, so long as you step aside and allow it to kill these two Cybertronians. It wants to send their heads back to Starscream as a goodbye present.”

“You’re sick,” Skywarp whispered, his hands clenched over his blackened optics.

The Doctor didn’t respond at first, his eyes growing wider as his sonic screwdriver delivered more bad news; a boulder atop a veritable mountain of catastrophe. “I am afraid we have bigger problems then the cherry atop your stone cold revenge, my old enemy.”

“The Angel insists,” Dirge replied. “It offers an incentive; a backup plan if you fail to agree to its terms. You aren’t going to like it.”

“Not necessary to explain further,” said the Doctor, waving his hand dismissively. “I caught onto your little ploy already. You’ve recorded your image and planned on broadcasting it across the stars, using this ship’s communications array to spread your miserable kind all across this universe.”

“Oh _frag_ that,” said Skywarp, his fingers tightening around his blaster.

“I’ve already jammed communications outside of this sector,” announced the Doctor, smiling grandly at his enemy. “Take that, Bob!”

Dirge fell silent for a moment. “The Angel doesn’t have a name,” he finally replied and the way he said it suggested this was a running complaint.

“Oh yes he does,” said the Doctor churlishly. “His name is Bob. Angel Bob — that’s his name. They're all named Bob. Try being afraid of him now that you know his name! And I haven’t forgiven you, Bob, for what you did to the Ponds. I’ll never forgive you — and never stop hunting you. I am the worst calamity you have ever brought upon yourself — of that I promise you!”

Dirge paused again. “That was someone else, though the Angel was assured they were delicious. It regrets not being a party to their destruction.”

“Keep it up,” threatened the Doctor, his eyes growing maniac. “Keep that wound open and bleeding! That’s my motivation to hunt your kind down no matter how far you flee!”

Thundercracker noted that whoever the “Ponds” were they had been like family to the doctor and apparently the matter was still very much an open wound. It was neither here nor there. Thundercracker had his own loved ones to save and unlike what had befallen these “Ponds” he wasn’t going to fail.

Thundercracker took a step towards the Doctor and played his hand. “Yes, you’ve locked Starscream down — congratulations on being so clever — but he’s not alone. He wasn’t the only one the angel sent back in time.” He had a winning card, he was certain of it.

“Megatron,” Skywarp whispered.

“Starscream saw his future, but Megatron didn’t.” Thundercracker stepped closer. “That second body isn’t him because there’s no way a stupid cataclysm he knows of in advance would ever kill him. You say we’ve killed trillions — what do you think is going to happen when Lord Megatron gets a billion years head start?”

The Doctor frowned down at his sonic screwdriver. He glanced back up at Thundercracker as something like dread began to creep into his expression and then back down at his instrument. He hesitated and then began changing the settings. His eyes grew wide when he realized the problem was the screwdriver’s scanning range was too limited.

“It’s more than our universe, isn’t it?” asked Thundercracker with optics bright. “He’s already claimed it for himself and now he’s after yours because without the Autobots there’s nothing to stop him from claiming abso-fragging-everything!”

Overwhelmed with what was happening, Thundercracker turned away and looked up at the central vid-screen and then gasped. The proof was all around them; magnificent ghostly warships were positioned in a circle around their ship. They were hazy, indistinct, but growing more solid by the moment.

The tactical screen began to beep excitedly, picking up countless Decepticon energy signatures. The screen exploded with bright green dots and Thundercracker laid a hand over his spark. _All the changes Megatron has made are so massive that they are taking time to come into effect. This is the cosmic equivalent of a loading screen! We’ve taken over everything!_

The Doctor realized it too.

“Wait,” said Skywarp, his wings perking. “Wait! Thunders! This means we won the war! Why the _frag_ would we want the doctor to fix this?!” 

“Angel Bob,” said the Doctor, leaning towards one of his worst enemies, “Forget about revenge, it’s a sucker’s game. Here’s the problem. It’s one thing to skulk around in the shadows murdering innocent people who don’t have a clue — but quite another to stay alive when _an entire death fleet_ knows where you are.”

The weeping angel didn’t respond, but seemed deflated somehow. The two zombie seekers clattered to the ground as if their strings had been cut. They were a laughable defense against the massive fleet encircled around them.

“Starscream’s back,” said Skywarp in a sing-song voice.

“Starscream is dead,” said the Doctor, without the slightest hesitation. “Anything else would be a time paradox, which, baring complete destruction of the timeline, also attracts a dangerous sort of monster all on its own and since I am not currently facing down an existential threat many magnitudes greater than—”

“—you don’t get it,” interrupted Thundercracker, pointing at the central vid-screen. “That is _exactly_ what you are facing, right fragging now — and he calls himself Megatron.”

The _Deft Blade_ suddenly exploded to life when the largest of the Decepticon warships — looming grandly above them — transferred a ridiculous amount of energy to the beleaguered starship.

“Hahaha, I wish I could see this,” and Skywarp laughed, hearing the ship’ systems coming back online. “Megatron has come to rescue us!”

“This isn’t a rescue,” whispered Thundercracker. He’d already realized the truth, though there was nothing he could do about what was coming. “Megatron has to kill the Doctor before he goes back and saves everyone — because Megatron doesn’t _want_ to be saved!”

“Oh,” said Skywarp, his lips drawing down in depressing realization. “Wait… that means we are going to die, right?”

“For the Cause,” said Thundercracker, glumly.

“Ah dammit.”

The central vid-screen burst to life. Megatron, now an Emperor of several universes, filled the screen. His helm’s edges were sharpened to resemble a harsh crown and his frame gleamed with a mirror shine. He was glory incarnate and gestured grandly at the assorted beings peering back at him in sheer wonder, or in the Doctor’s case, sheer horror.

“Gentlemechs,” said Emperor Megatron, his greeting meant for his two Decepticons alone. “The Decepticon Empire salutes your sacrifice. You will live forever in our sparks.” His crimson optics shone bright with malevolence, but also a hint of regret. Mostly malevolence, though. He was about to give the order to open fire when Starscream exploded into view, tackling Megatron and knocking them both over the back of the enormous throne, which toppled over with them.

“Get out!” Starscream shrieked over his shoulder at his endangered trine, his desperate optics appearing onscreen while Megatron scrabbled with him in the background. “I won’t let him kill you!”

“That’s not possible,” hissed the Doctor.

Thundercracker blinked and then pulled up the vid-still and then grinned. “Yes it is — because you made it possible.” He showed the picture to the Doctor; the two bodies now sitting side-by-side and most importantly the both of them were _missing their heads_.

The Doctor saw his defeat in the form of Starscream, his thighs locked around Megatron’s helm, shrieking to the high heavens “the universe isn’t worth it without my brothers!” and Megatron shouting “get off me you ridiculous twit” while clumsily punching Starscream in the aft and everywhere else he could reach, but mostly his aft. All around the embattled Emperor were elder mechs watching the spectacle, their frames a palette of reds and whites and silvers; a mix of Megatron and Starscream's primary colors. It was hard to avoid imagining why that might be.

"He's been holding a candle for us for how many years...?" Thundercracker whispered, touched.

“You know,” said Skywarp to Thundercracker, “I’m still mad about everything, but I gotta admit I’m feeling kinda loved right now.”

Thundercracker nodded mutely.

And in the chaos, the Doctor’s sonic screwdriver pinged helpfully, informing the Doctor that the aforementioned existential threat many magnitudes greater had arrived, in the form of the Reapers, who would be along shortly to frag up everyone’s slag that much harder. Also the time paradoxes, can't forget about them.

“I really hate that guy,” said the Doctor and Dirge at the same time.

The Doctor’s eyes gleamed.

“Alright, Thunders, you’ve forced my hand,” and the Doctor turned towards his old enemy. “Bob! It’s all you — send me and those two bodies back to them and let's get this stupid timeline over with!”

Then the _Deft Blade_ ’s lights went out one last time — a victim of the Doctor’s sonic screwdriver — and when they came back the Doctor, the two corpses, and the TARDIS had vanished without a trace.

“So…” said Skywarp, still in the dark.

Thundercracker shrugged. “I think that means we’re going to live…?” He glanced down at his arm panel and then blinked when he realized that the vid-still with the headless corpses had entirely vanished. His wings lifted hopefully for Dirge and Thrust.

Next to them, the weeping angel’s hands were on its hips. It knew that now the Doctor had tracked it down, he was likely to attack before it would ever meet Starscream, or when it least expected it, whichever came first. Stone eyes glared at the vid-screen, affixed angrily on the red and white seeker shrieking "I win!" triumphantly in his Emperor’s shocked face while that possible future began to fade to white.

The one that got away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a small epilogue left. =)


	12. Epilogue

Thirty leagues down.

That was how far Megatron and Starscream had to flee before the local predacon pack finally decided they weren’t worth the trouble to dig out. They’d finally found a hole in the ground deep enough to shelter in, though the _drip-drip-drip_ of primordial petrol oozing down the walls distracted their rest; like saliva dripping from a slavering mouth.

It was dark, it was dank — it was a dark dank cave and it was the safest place to be at the moment. That realization was a hard one for Megatron. He was taking pretty much everything unusually hard the last few days. He wasn't one to skulk around in caves and was not happy with the turn his life had taken thanks to the mech he was currently cradling against his chest. “I should kill you for this,” he muttered into Starscream’s audial once again.

It was a common statement, uttered so frequently that it had lost all threat, because Starscream knew Megatron wasn’t going to kill him.

Megatron needed him.

“I wish you would,” was Starscream’s only reply, mumbled into the creases of Megatron’s chest plates where he was currently hiding his helm. This was how they spent every recharge cycle, because if Megatron didn’t keep a hold of him Starscream would take his chances in the air.

“But if I killed you,” Megatron continued to muse aloud, “then you wouldn’t be there when I find my way out of this mess, so that I could enjoy your expression when you’re _left behind_ to be eaten alive by stupid, vicious beasts.”

 _Yeah right_ , thought Starscream, eyeing the huge servos clamped feverishly around him. _Pull the other one._ Megatron’s mouth was saying one thing, but his actions promised something else entirely.

“We could go back to the surface right now and get this over with,” Starscream countered, but without venom. All the constant threats and the recounting of creative ways of getting each other slagged was getting old. It didn’t help that Megatron was still clinging to his frame, holding him close and personal.

All those attempts to abandon Megatron — as Starscream was certain they were doomed to die together when the Cataclysm struck — had left Megatron so paranoid as to threaten to tear his remaining wing off. And failing that, to keep a tight hold on Starscream every single night.

Megatron needed him now more than ever.

Starscream was the only other mech in Cybertron’s deep past that wasn’t trying to gnaw the hell out of him at any given moment. He was the only other mech that Megatron could talk to, which was important because Megatron loved to talk — needed someone to chat with — to the point that being alone was worse than deactivation to him. Even if that someone could only ever be Starscream.

“Frag my life,” muttered Starscream, for however long that managed to be. His knowledge of his own fate filled him with terror, though Megatron had merely laughed off his dire warnings.

Starscream was keen to escape, but the events of the previous day had changed their dynamic. He'd slipped away, but instead of escaping to the sky he'd blundered into the open maw of a lone hunting tunnel wyrm. He’d slain the wretched thing but not before it had divested him of a turbine and half a wing; effectively clipping his wings. He had no hope of keeping ahead of any aerial predators now.

Starscream still refused to acknowledge that if Megatron hadn’t come roaring after him that he would have died shortly after killing the tunnel wyrm, especially since there was more where that came from. Now all escape attempts would have to be by foot and for Starscream that was a daunting prospect. Not that Megatron had relaxed any around him.

_"You should let me go," Starscream had insisted after Megatron found him torn and bleeding. "They will smell me and come after us even worse than before."_

_"Never," Megatron had snarled back while patching Starscream's wounds and rigging a harness that had Starscream strapped to his back. "They will have to tear me apart before I will ever abandon you," and then realizing how that sounded, he added, "You don't get off that easy."_

Though the whole 'tearing apart' part of Megatron's reply was very much a possibility. The predacons were every bit the horrific predators the museums had painted them. They were relentless; the stuff of nightmares.

The scientist in Starscream suspected that the reason they were so insane was that the wildlife was currently experiencing a runaway evolutionary arm’s race; get bigger and badder or die. It would take a massive reset button before Cybertron became inhabitable by anything that resembled nature as he remembered it… a reset button that was likely already on the way. It certainly didn’t help his mood any that he was expecting to be cooked alive by gamma rays at any moment.

"Frag my life," Starscream whispered again.

“You fragged both our lives,” Megatron reminded him, his hands clenching around sleek metal. “I can’t believe you managed to pull that off. You tricked me fair and square, but fumbled your win at the last possible second.”

It was obvious Megatron was still kicking himself over the whole thing. So stupid to turn his back to the unknown — he knew better than that! He was better than that. It was just that he’d been so focused on defeating Starscream and claiming the time weapon for himself that he hadn’t taken the statue seriously enough.

"I probably shouldn't have stomped on its face," Starscream mumbled, the closest he'd come to true regret. It was a fleeting feeling for him, though.

Megatron rumbled in reply, remembering kicking the weeping angel's head down the hallway. He held on to that thought for a moment longer, holding it out like one would a curious beetle or spider, and then he cast his regrets away. He didn’t believe in dwelling on such things; he would just have to get even somehow.

“Do you think they miss me?” Starscream asked idly, his optics half-closed. He was exhausted and starting to drift in his own memory-fluxes. He was thinking of his trine, whom he missed dearly. _It’s true you never know how much you… love… your brothers until they’re gone_ and he sniffled. “I hope they feel bad for not coming back to pick me up.”

“They didn’t have time,” Megatron said bluntly, his lips curving into a frown. “That damned thing was too fast.”

“Shut up,” Starscream whispered.

Megatron frowned, considering. “I suppose it would still be possible to save them, depending on a number of possibilities. I was still researching time and possible applications of temporal weaponry when” and here he scowled, “you ruined everything.”

“You never told me why you sent me after that stupid monster in the first place,” Starscream muttered into his audial, resisting the urge to wriggle around for some greater semblance of comfort. He knew Megatron would enjoy that way too much.

Megatron considered the question and then finally answered. “I was warned that the weapon was treacherous. I sent you because you are _my_ most treacherous weapon. As such, you were the one most likely to succeed in acquiring it for me.”

“Frag me.”

Megatron smirked and would have liked to oblige him, but went quiet instead. They were still in great danger and he knew his focus had to be on saving their lives. All other concerns and pleasures would have to wait. His optics narrowed and then closed, but the whir of his helm’s fans belied the impression that he was recharging. He was thinking — always thinking. He was working on a plan that would not only see them survive the cataclysm long term, but to emerge with a predacon army — one loyal only to him.

And that was Starscream’s only hope now.

After a few moments, Starscream relaxed completely and closed his optics. _I know what happens to me,_ he thought morosely _and that should cause a fixed point in time_ — _but Megatron doesn’t! He’s the strongest mech I know. He will never give up on his dreams of conquest. If anyone can save us, he can._

Would that be enough to save them both?

Starscream didn’t know, but he knew he was going to find out.

finis

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes this fic ended with Megs and Star stuck in a cave.
> 
> SNERK.


End file.
